VII MOSQUES AND PALACES
St. Sophia is one of the great churches of the world, ranking next to St. Peter’s at Rome in magnitude, majesty and beauty. Three churches of the same name have stood upon the site of this celebrated sanctuary. The first was built by Constantine the Great, completed by his son and successor, Constantius, and dedicated with great pomp on the 15th of February, 316 A. D. The second, which rose upon the ashes of the first, was built by the Emperor Theodosius and dedicated in 415. It was burned during the sedition in 532, and the present edifice was erected by Justinian the Great, after five years and ten months of labor, and was dedicated on Christmas day of the year 537. Constantinople was then the center of the world and the headquarters of the Christian Church, and it was the ambition of that great emperor to embody in this building an expression of his adoration for and devotion to the omniscient and the omnipotent God, to place before the world a symbol combining all things beautiful, all art—then rescued from paganism—all riches, all human thought and skill as a tribute to the Creator. Justinian sought architects, artists, decorators and workmen in every land, and his biographers say that his authority enabled him to choose the most competent and skillful of all mankind to execute the noblest of human enterprises.
The entire world contributed material. As was the custom in those days, the pagan temples were stripped of their treasures to adorn the sanctuary of the true God. The shrines of Isis and Osiris were despoiled to do it honor; the temple of the Sun at Baalbek, of Diana at Ephesus, of Minerva at Athens, of Phoebus at Delos and of Cybele at Cyzicus were robbed of their pillars and columns and adornments of marble and gold. Solomon’s temple at Jerusalem was searched for architectural glories, and every quarry in the civilized world was seized and made to contribute. The wonderful columns of dark green marble which support the galleries came from the temple of Diana at Ephesus, eight columns of dark red porphyry came from the temple of the Sun at Baalbek, other columns under the galleries were formerly in the temples and the palaces of the Cæsars at Rome. The walls of St. Sophia showed the finest specimens of material and handicraft in existence, and the magnificence and variety surpassed all other structures. Every species of marble, granite and porphyry that was considered of any value in the known world is said to have been represented in the construction, and the decorations were of corresponding magnificence.
The altar was more costly than gold, for it was composed of a variety of precious materials imbedded together in gold and silver and incrusted with pearls and jewels, and its cavity, which was called the sea, was set with diamonds, rubies and other costly stones. Above the altar was a tabernacle upon which rested a golden cupola and a golden cross weighing seventy-five pounds, which, it is said, was so thickly veneered with diamonds and other jewels that the gold could not be seen. The seats of the priests and the throne of the patriarchs, arranged in a semicircle behind the altar, were of solid silver. The doors of the temple were of ivory, electrum and silver.
We do not know the cost of this wonderful edifice, except that it weighed heavily upon all classes of the community, for every soul within the dominions of the emperor, which then comprised the civilized world, was compelled to contribute. Finally, as it approached completion, Justinian, who stood by, clad in a cotton tunic, to encourage the hundred thousand workmen, stretched out his arms to Heaven and exclaimed:
“Solomon, I have surpassed thee. God be thanked, who has esteemed me worthy to complete this work.”
And he dedicated it to Divine Wisdom.
The Archangel Michael is said to have been the architect, and revealed the designs to Justinian in a dream. Celestial visitors frequently descended to inspect the progress of the work, and, according to the legends of the time, it could not have been accomplished without them. When the building was approaching completion Justinian ran short of money, whereupon an angel appeared, and, leading the mules of the treasury into a subterranean vault, loaded them with eight thousand pounds of miraculous gold, which relieved the situation. When a dispute arose between the emperor and the architects as to how the light should fall upon the altar, the angel appeared again and instructed them to arrange a corona, or circle of windows, and dedicate three of them to the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.
It is claimed that the dome was the first of the kind ever erected, but that is a misrepresentation, for the Pantheon at Rome was built many years before. The dome rises over the center of the church to a height of one hundred and seventy-nine feet and is one hundred and seven feet in diameter. The dome of the Pantheon is one hundred and thirty feet, those of St. Peter’s at Rome and Santa Maria at Florence are each one hundred and twenty-six feet, and that of St. Paul’s at London one hundred and eight feet. The interior of St. Sophia is oval in shape, the greatest length being two hundred and fifty feet and the narrowest one hundred feet, with aisles and recesses of eighty feet on either side, making the entire width from wall to wall two hundred and sixty feet. There are one hundred and fourteen columns, forty supporting the galleries and seventy-four the dome. One hundred architects were employed as superintendents, under each of whom were a thousand men, including masons, carpenters, laborers, decorators and others.
Externally the building is very ugly—a mass of irregular blank walls and domes painted a hideous yellow with black stripes, reminding one of a convict’s garb. But the interior is majestic in its beauty, and, according to a famous architectural authority, “is the most perfect and the most beautiful church ever erected by any Christian people.” The chief charm of the interior is its massive simplicity and perfect proportions. It is almost entirely without ornamentation, except the mosaic work upon the walls and ceiling. All the flat surfaces are covered with mosaic laid upon gold. Compared with St. Peter’s at Rome it is as empty as a barn. There are no tombs, no statues, no altars, nothing to obstruct the view in any direction; nothing to conceal the graceful outlines of the arches and the simple coloring of the walls, which is a soft yellow, nearly as deep as an orange and traced with different dark shades of green. I heard a young American critic remark that there was “nothing to see in St. Sophia,” which is almost strictly true, in comparison with the other great churches with which we are familiar. There is a beautiful balcony for the Sultan to occupy in case he should come to St. Sophia to worship, and he would be sheltered by gilded screens. The mihrab, which corresponds to the altar in Roman Catholic churches and indicates the direction of Mecca, towards which Moslems turn in prayer, is a simple recess unadorned, and near by is the mimber, or pulpit. In St. Sophia, as in all mosques which have been secured to Islam by the power of arms, the preacher still mounts the pulpit with sword in hand and hangs out a flag as a symbol of victory and conquest.
The floor of the entire mosque is covered with Turkish rugs of the richest texture, and at intervals of six or eight feet wooden troughs made of undressed lumber stretch across the entire area. These are for the convenience of worshipers and for the promotion of neatness, and when one selects a place to kneel and pray he drops his shoes into a trough. The rugs are divided into sections, plainly marked, so that the faithful cannot have any excuse for crowding each other. At two large fountains they can perform their ablutions before beginning their prayers, and above them is the sensible admonition: “Wash thy sins and not thy face only.”
Nine gates lead into the temple. Over the central one, by which the emperor entered, is painted an open book on a reading desk, surmounted by a dove with outstretched wings. Upon the pages of the book are the words: “I am the door of the sheep. By me if any man enter in he shall be saved, and go in and out and find pasture.” In the tympanum above is a mosaic, also dating back to Christian times, representing Christ upon the throne, with the words: “Peace be unto you. I am the light of the world.”
The Mohammedans have retained most of the ornamentation of the Christians, and even here and there a cross is permitted to remain, although most of them were chiseled off centuries ago. There are also several relics of Christ which they refuse to return to the Christians. The most interesting is a cradle of red marble, said to have been used by Jesus, and a basin in which He is said to have been washed.
St. Sophia for fifteen hundred years has been the theater of some of the greatest and most solemn ceremonies in history, and was particularly associated with the Crusades. On one of the piers in the nave is the mark resembling the imprint of a bloody hand, said to have been made by Mohammed II. as his war charger stood upon the bodies of Christian corpses on the day of the capture of Constantinople by the Turks.
All around the mosques are tombs, schools, baths, fountains, shops for the sale of chaplets and other religious articles, hospices for pilgrims, kitchens for the poor and a theological seminary with several thousand students.
The Sultan has many palaces, all of them constructed by his predecessors. He has built none himself, although he altered the Yildiz Kiosk, in which he lives in seclusion, and modernized it a good deal. Most of his palaces are occupied by his seven brothers and sisters, his three married children, and other relatives. Only two of the palaces are ever seen by strangers, and those can be entered only with a permit from the Sultan himself, to whom application must be made with the endorsement of your ambassador. Dolma-Baghtcheh Palace, an enormous mass of glittering marble, with gorgeous gates and a pretty garden around it, stands not far from the city on the European side, and Beyler-Bey, on the Asiatic shore. If exquisitely carved marble, carved wood and gilding, mosaics and mirrors, crystal chandeliers and gorgeous frescoes, priceless rugs, tapestries, gilded furniture and divans upholstered in costly damask, all in a prodigality from which taste is excluded, constitute an ideal palace, Beyler-Bey excels.
BEYLER-BEY PALACE, CONSTANTINOPLE
At a distance the exterior, shown against the woodlands and the grassy plateaus of the Asiatic shore, makes an exceedingly pretty picture, and Dolma-Baghtcheh as a mass is imposing. When you come to examine the details you wonder without admiration at the lace-work doors, the massive gilt columns, the barbaric domes and the Saracenic arches and a crystal staircase, which must have cost an enormous sum of money. Everything about the place is of the most costly material. The bath and toilet-room connected with the Sultan’s apartments, which is shown with great pride, is lined with slabs of alabaster—floor, walls and ceiling—and the tub is of the same material. There are wash-basins in nearly all the reception-rooms made of onyx and alabaster, which we were told were necessary to take the place of finger-bowls after the people of the court ate sweets. Both the Dolma-Baghtcheh and the Beyler-Bey palaces are mixtures of Moorish, Arabic, Turkish and French architecture and decoration, but the big ballroom, where the Sultans formerly held receptions, is pure French.
We asked the handsome young aide-de-camp, who was detailed by His Imperial Majesty to conduct us through the palaces, how a ball-room was used in a country where gentlemen were not permitted to meet ladies. He explained that in the harems the ladies often danced among themselves for the entertainment of their husbands, although the latter never danced with them, but a ball-room was considered a necessary feature of a palace, and this one had been used on several occasions years ago. The young colonel showed us through the picture gallery also, where there is a collection of paintings made by the late Sultan Abdul Aziz, who evidently knew very little about art. His taste seemed to run to nude women, horses, and battle pictures in which Turkish legions were trampling down their enemies. There were several portraits of Sultans also, notwithstanding the popular impression that the Mohammedan religion forbids the reproduction of the human face and figure.
People who have read fanciful descriptions of Constantinople, penned by poets, artists and other sentimentalists like D’Amicis, for example, who are apt to see more than appears to ordinary eyes, have an impression that the Seraglio of the Sultan is a palace of mysterious seclusion; that it has something to do with the harem and other private affairs of His Imperial Majesty. I supposed so until I came to Constantinople, but it is nothing of the sort. Literally, a seraglio means a portico or vestibule surrounding any habitation, palace, kiosk or mosque, but the term is commonly used as a collective noun, and refers to a collection of buildings used for different purposes, such as the residence of a pasha, his harem, his offices, his stables and the mosque that is attached to all of the large establishments in Turkey. The Seraglio of the Sultan is a large collection of buildings inclosed by a mighty wall, covering the extreme point of the peninsula upon which Stamboul stands, and dividing the Sea of Marmora from the Golden Horn. In its geographical association it corresponds to Battery Park, New York, and is the most conspicuous object one sees upon approaching the city and the last upon which the eye rests when departing. It is also the most interesting spot in all Turkey from a historical standpoint. There is no place in the East except the Holy Land which has so many associations. It is to Constantinople what the Kremlin is to Moscow, the Escurial to Madrid, Potsdam to Berlin, Versailles to Paris, and perhaps we may compare it to Hampton Court near London.
The garden of the Seraglio was the Acropolis of the original city, the site of the Palatium sacrum of Constantine, the citadel of his successors, the palace of Justinian and Placidia, queen of the Goths. Few spots on earth have had a longer or more tragic history. From the gardens of the Seraglio sailed the fleets of the Phoenicians, the war barges of the Romans, the triremes from Asia, the galleys of Darius the Persian, of Xerxes, of Alexander the Great, Philip of Macedon, and I would not be surprised if Agamemnon, Ajax, Achilles and those bold old warriors had landed there many a time. The gilded barges of Venice and Genoa brought their soldiers there and from that landing-place carried away millions of plunder. The feet of the Crusaders trod the gravel walks—Richard the Lion-Hearted, Godfrey de Bouillon, and the Frank emperors made it their headquarters in the time of the Crusades. Since the occupation of Constantinople by the Turks, the resplendent caiques of the Sultans have come and gone, some of them bearing candidates for uneasy thrones, and others, desperate creatures, seeking refuge from a miserable death.
From the time of Mohammed II., who took Constantinople by storm in 1453, to Abdul Medjid, in 1864, who deserted it for the more cheerful palace of the Dolma-Baghtcheh on the banks of the Bosphorus, twenty-two Sultans have been imprisoned or murdered, or died by violence within the palaces of the Seraglio. For four hundred years the fate of the sovereigns of Turkey was subject to the caprice of the all-powerful Janizaries, who made it their headquarters. Up to the beginning of the last century it was the fashion for the Janizaries to decapitate unpopular Sultans and ministers and expose their heads upon the pillars of the gate in order that the public might know what had happened. Two niches on either side of the Sublime Porte, which is the main gateway to the Seraglio, were made for that purpose. Sometimes, however, as a special mark of vengeance or honor, the heads were placed, like that of John the Baptist, upon a silver charger and left outside where the public could examine them closely.
Over the Sublime Porte, a stately arch with ponderous gates, is an Arabic inscription reading: “May Allah ever preserve the glory of the possessor; may Allah ever strengthen his foundations.”
In the first large court, known as the Court of the Janizaries, is an enormous tree called by their name, under which they were in the habit of hatching their conspiracies. It is said to be the largest tree in Europe, and two stunted columns under its far-spreading branches once served as a guillotine. There are many buildings within the walls in addition to the palaces, the harem, the barracks of the soldiers and those used for official purposes. The mint is there, the arsenal, magazines for the storage of explosives, a hospital, the imperial stables, quarters for an army of slaves, several pleasure kiosks and a mosque. The Greek church of St. Irene, erected by Constantine the Great, which was converted into an armory instead of a mosque, is a venerable monument of the Byzantine style of architecture. In the museum of the armory is the scimiter used by Mohammed II. in the siege of Constantinople, the sword of Scanderbeg, the armor of Tamerlane and the porphyry tombs of Constantine, Theodosius, Julian the Apostate and other early Greek emperors.
The Chirkau Scherif, or Hall of the Holy Garment, is the most sacred place in Turkey, for it shelters the mantle of the Prophet Mohammed, his staff, his saber, his standard, and, among other relics, two hairs from his venerable beard, which are inclosed in a casket of gold. The sacred mantle is a long brown robe of camel’s-hair, made in the same shape and style and resembling in appearance those worn by Persian priests. It is inclosed in a frame and covered with cloth-of-gold for protection, with little slits cut in the covering in order that the threads may be seen. The standard of Islam is a green flag or banner, about two feet square, of the finest silk, embroidered with an inscription similar to those seen in all the Mohammedan churches, declaring that “there is no God but Allah and Mohammed is his prophet.” This standard is said to have been carried by Mohammed himself and has ever since been the most significant and sacred egis of the Moslem world, the symbol of el jihad, or call to a religious war, when borne publicly by the Sultan in the mosque of St. Sophia.
SULEIMAN MOSQUE, CONSTANTINOPLE
There are many other interesting buildings in the Seraglio, some of them famous for their decorations and the carved marble used in their construction. Others are gloomy-looking storehouses for archives and wardrobes for the robes of state—once carefully kept by black eunuchs, now all more or less dilapidated and abandoned. The kitchens cover a large area and are roofed with domes perforated to let out the smoke instead of having the ordinary chimney, and in the olden days it is said that 40,000 oxen was the yearly complement, with a corresponding number of sheep, goats, calves, capons, geese, ducks, pigeons and other supplies.
In August, 1863, several of the ancient buildings were destroyed and damaged by fire, and nowadays the most of them are yellow and dingy, sadly in need of paint and restoration. There is everywhere a look of neglect. Most of the Seraglio is vacant except for the custodians and guards, and everywhere there is a pathetic squalor.
The most beautiful of all the buildings, the famous oriental kiosk known as Tschinili, or the mosque of porcelain, built by the conqueror Mohammed in imitation of one he saw at Bagdad, remains in an excellent state of preservation, for which we are duly grateful, and its portico, with graceful pillars elaborately carved in the most delicate lace-work, its dome starred with gilt coruscations, and lined from ceiling to floor with beautiful blue Persian tiles, look as bright and new as they did on the day they were made. The doors are of bronze, the woodwork is set with mother-of-pearl and the rugs and hangings are of the finest silk. It is altogether the prettiest thing in Constantinople.
Across the court, however, is what we came to see,—the treasury of the Ottoman Empire, or, as it used to be known, the Green Vaults of Constantine. Here is a display of barbaric splendor and a collection of treasure and baubles which no Turk is ever allowed to look upon except the Aghas and eunuchs who are intrusted with its protection, and even they are spies upon each other. No one can enter this building without an order signed by Abrahim Pasha, private secretary to His Majesty. Applications by strangers must be made to the Sultan personally through the ambassador of their country, and he requires several days to consider before granting a permit. Perhaps he makes inquiries as to the character of the applicant, because he is exceedingly jealous of his treasures and always apprehensive lest they should be seen by some person who may make trouble about them.
No resident of Constantinople except the families of the diplomatic corps, no Turk and no person who understands the Turkish language can be admitted, for fear they might give information concerning the millions of dollars’ worth of precious stones and other valuables which would tempt robbers or cause discontent among the poverty-stricken people. When the Sultan tells suppliants that he has no money they might ask him to sell some of the diamonds and pearls and emeralds or melt up some of the gold in his treasury. Very few Turks know what is there. Few members of the Sultan’s household have ever seen the collection. Most of them are gifts, heirlooms and trophies of war. Many have been handed down by twenty-eight generations of Sultans, and it is claimed that the collection has never been disturbed; but that is an exaggeration. No matter how hard-pressed the Sultan may be for money he would not sell any of his treasures, but sometimes he has taken out some trifle for a gift—a jewel or an ornament; something that would not be missed.
There is no such useless wealth in all the world except in the Kremlin at Moscow. That looks larger because it occupies more space and is better arranged for display. The Sultan’s treasures are crowded into two little rooms, arranged without any taste or plan of installation, and the loose and unset jewels, seals and other articles of adornment are kept in big salad-bowls that will hold a couple of gallons. There are five bowls full of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, turquoise and other unset precious stones, perhaps a half bushel altogether, and a large tray about twelve by fifteen inches in size covered with beautiful unmounted pearls. One of the emeralds weighs two kilograms and another is almost of the same size. They are said to be the largest emeralds in the world.
The most gorgeous and overpowering spectacle in the collection is a throne said to be of solid gold set, mosaic-like, with uncut rubies, emeralds and pearls, which formerly belonged to the Shah of Persia, and was captured and brought to Constantinople as the spoil of war by Sultan Selim I. in 1502. There are scepters, armor, sabers, scimiters, pistols, saddles and other equestrian equipments, walking-sticks, sandals and other articles, some of them imbedded with jewels. A toilet table of ordinary size is veneered with diamonds, while the wash-bowl, pitcher and other toilet articles are set thickly with the most beautiful turquoise. There are cups of onyx, crystal and jade; stirrups, bridles and other horse-furniture of gold, and in the corner of a little case is a two-quart bowl filled with diamond buttons, which some time or another fastened the garments of some extravagant sultan. Arranged around the wall are effigies of a dozen or more of the great sultans in their richest robes of state and wearing their favorite jewels. If those effigies could be stripped of their ornaments they alone would make a display of the jeweler’s art that would be worth exhibition. There is no catalogue, and I was prohibited from taking notes. Newspaper men are never knowingly admitted, lest they should publish descriptions of the riches of the treasury and give the Sultan hysterics.
The ceremony of opening the doors was quite interesting. There are two sets of keys for everything, and they are held by two custodians who have nothing to do with each other and are supposed to be enemies. Each has a guard of twenty-four men, who live apart and are forbidden to associate with each other or have any more than the strictest official communication. Representatives of each of these squads are on duty at all times and are expected to act as spies on each other. They are peculiar-looking people and wear a queer livery—a high-buttoned coat of black broadcloth like an Episcopal clergyman, with a red fez.
Our card of invitation fixed our reception at 11:30 a.m. We arrived a little before that hour, to find that the custodians had anticipated us and had drawn up their guards in two lines facing each other. One of the chiefs then went forward and unlocked his share of the fastenings. Then the other came forward and used his keys. Each was accompanied by at least twelve men, and under the regulations could not turn a bolt until they all were present. If anyone had been absent we would have been compelled to wait for him or come another day. And every one of these guards expected a liberal fee. The cost of looking at the Sultan’s treasures amounted to $35. After the inspection we were invited to a pavilion where coffee, sweets and cigarettes were served with great formality. While we were there an accident happened. Our courier, in reply to an inquiry, unintentionally dropped a few words of Turkish, and there was great excitement. One of the officials took him aside and put him through a close examination, but finally accepted his explanation that he was not a Turk nor a resident of Turkey, and was not familiar with the language, but had learned a few words during the recent war with Greece, when he had served as a dragoman for an English newspaper correspondent.
