Part 17 (1/2)

It is with kindlier a.s.sociations that we approach the beautiful kiosk of Bagdad, whose walls, with their beautiful tiles, doors of the finest inlaid work, and carpets of the richest design, place us in an ideal Eastern scene. It is a copy, they say, of a kiosk Murad IV. saw at Bagdad. Pity that it is now only a show. Here or in the Mejidiyeh kiosk looking on the Marmora and up the Golden Horn, comes the refection, and we fancy ourselves again, but for the officials in their to us most inappropriate costume,[65] in the Arabian Nights.

So back again and we drive round at break-neck pace, the driver shouting and cracking his whip all the way, across the Galata Bridge, along that wretched dirty lane called the ”grande rue de Galata,” past Top-haneh and the modern Valideh Mosque, to the palace of Dolma bagtche. It is the work of Abdul Mejid. It is vast, white, elaborate: it has aroused enthusiasm among personages who might have been expected to know better: it was from this gorgeous abode that Abdul Aziz was hurried across to the old Seraglio at his deposition: some state functions are still performed here. That is really all that one would like to say. The bewildering, dazzling, costly decorations, the pictures that Abdul Aziz so much admired, the mirrors and candelabra, the abundance of everything that is ugly and expensive, represent nothing in the world but a taste which has tried to graft on orientalism the worst ideas of the early Victorian age and the Second Empire.

Of Cheragan, where Abdul Aziz died and perhaps the last Sultan still lingers, I cannot speak. No one is now admitted. Let the enthusiastic de Amicis express, in his account of it, what we feel as we leave Dolma bagtche.

”Nothing of all the splendour remains in my memory except the Sultan's bath, made of whitest marble, sculptured with pendent flowers and stalact.i.tes, and decorated with fringes and delicate embroideries that one feared to touch, so fragile did they seem. The disposition of the rooms reminded me vaguely of the Alhambra. Our steps made no sound upon the rich carpets spread everywhere. Now and then an eunuch pulled a cord, and a green curtain rose and displayed the Bosphorus, Asia, a thousand s.h.i.+ps, a great light; and then all vanished again, as in a flash of lightning. The rooms seemed endless, and as each door appeared we hastened our steps; but a profound silence reigned in every part, and there was no vestige of any living being, nor rustle of garment save the sound made by the silken door-curtains as they fell behind. At last we were weary of that endless journey from one splendid empty room to another, seeing ourselves reflected in great mirrors, with the black faces of our guides and the group of silent servants, and were thankful to find ourselves again in the free air, in the midst of the ragged, noisy denizens of Tophane.”

The present Sultan, as all the world knows, lives in Yildiz Kiosk, a building erected by himself, on the hills above the Bosphorus. He has gradually restricted his public appearances within the narrowest limits possible to a Sultan. Only once a year does he now cross to Stambl, to pay, on the 15th of Ramazan, homage to the Prophet's mantle in its chamber in the old Seraglio. Once a week, on Friday, he goes to the mosque he has built just outside his palace grounds. A card from the Emba.s.sy admits to a house provided by the Sultan which gives a good view of his ceremonial procession to his official prayers. As a survival, or as the modern expression of the power and obligation of the Khalif, the Commander of the Faithful, it is a sight not to be missed. The ma.s.sed thousands of splendid troops, as fine a body of men as any soldiers in the world, the pilgrims from the far East, the holy men of the Mohammedan faith, admitted to the best positions and treated with the most profound reverence, the gathering of ladies from the harem in closed carriages surrounded by eunuchs, and of little princes in gay uniforms, at last the coming of the Sultan himself, in the most prosaic of European costumes, surmounted by a fez, with his officials preceding and following his carriage--that is the ceremony to-day which centuries ago foreigners watched rarely and with awe, if not with terror. The times have changed; and the man.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCUTARI POINT AND LEANDER'S ISLE]

FOOTNOTES:

[65] It is simply that of an English clergyman with high waistcoat and straight collar--and a fez!

CHAPTER VII

_Antiquities_

Needless to say, the antiquities of Constantinople would take for their description not one but many books. Archaeologists will read as well as see for themselves. Let me merely call attention to some of the prominent archaeological remains which no one will wish to miss.

They are the living memorials of the great past.

And first the Hippodrome. So much has already been said of it that here I shall only give the barest description of what we see to-day.

And first be it noted that the s.p.a.ce now open is probably no more than two-fifths of the original Hippodrome. The mosque of Sultan Ahmed encroached on the east; other buildings on the west. The area of the ancient Hippodrome has been estimated at 25,280 square yards. The present s.p.a.ce is not more than 216 yards in length and 44 across.

Secondly, it must not be forgotten that the present level is about 10 feet above the original pavement. Some indication of this is given by the fact that the bases of the columns, excavated by British officers during the Crimean war, are still considerably below the ground outside the railings.

[Ill.u.s.tration: S. SOPHIA FROM THE HIPPODROME. OBELISK IN THE FOREGROUND]

Gyllius gives a long account of the Hippodrome as it was in his day, a century or so after the Turkish Conquest. The Egyptian obelisk, the Colossus, and the serpent column stood then as they stand now; but there then remained also seventeen white pillars at the north-east, the iron rings still fixed to the tops from which awnings were hung.

Columns, pillars, benches, remained here and there; but desolation and ruin had already fallen upon the scene. ”The Hippodrome,” he wrote, ”is desolate, stripped of all its ornaments; and they have lately begun to build upon it. At the sight of it I was filled with grief.”

The Crusaders in 1204 destroyed a vast number of precious works of ancient art which adorned the site: the destruction was completed by the Turks. The famous bronze horses of Lysippus, which stood as ornaments of the imperial seat, were taken to Venice after the Latin Conquest, and stand to-day outside S. Mark's.

We see now only a great open s.p.a.ce, thick in dust, from which rise three striking monuments. At the north-east, whence we enter from S.

Sophia, is the Egyptian obelisk. This was brought from Heliopolis by Theodosius, and was erected in the position which it has ever since retained. He placed it upon a pedestal of marble and granite, upon which are elaborate reliefs of the fourth century, representing scenes in the Hippodrome. On the north are the bringing the obelisk to the Hippodrome and the placing it in position, and above it a representation of the imperial family watching the games, Theodosius in the midst, with Honorius and Arcadius and attendants, with the Labarum, the ensign of the Eastern Empire, above. On the west is a Greek inscription recording the difficulty of the erection; a corresponding Latin one is on the east. It may be worth while to give the verse translation of the old translator of Gyllius:

”To raise this four square pillar to its height, And fix it steady on its solid base, Great Theodosius tried, but tried in vain.

In two and thirty days, by Proclus' skill The toilsome work, with great applause, was done.”

Above the Greek inscription on the west side are other representations of the spectators at the games, including the Empress. The south side gives a chariot race round the low wall (spina), which divided the Hippodrome in the midst and on which the monuments stood. Above is another representation of the imperial family in their Kathisma. On the east, above the Latin inscription, are shown two rows of spectators, the Emperor in the upper, with a wreath for the winner of the race. The sculptures are worth the closest attention, as they are among the finest remains of the fourth century that we possess. The minuteness of the detail, in the representation of the persons with their official garb, is of the greatest historical interest.

A few paces further on is the famous Serpent column (see above, p.

11). Nothing in Constantinople, perhaps in the world, has such a history. The three heads have long disappeared: one is in the Museum.

When they were taken away is doubtful. Tradition makes Mohammed cut off one on the day of the conquest; but Gyllius certainly speaks as if they were still intact in his day. ”Made of bra.s.s, not fluted,” he says of the pillar, ”but wreathed around with the foldings of three serpents like those we see in great ropes. The heads of these serpents are placed in a triangular form and rise very high upon the shaft of the pillar.” The column removed from Delphi by Constantine bore, at its first making, the golden tripod which the Greeks consecrated to Apollo after the victory over Xerxes at Plataea. The names of the cities inscribed on the coils may still be traced in fragments. Canon Curtis, in ”Broken Bits of Byzantium,” part ii., gives tracings of five of them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BAS-RELIEF FROM BASE OF THE OBELISK IN THE HIPPODROME, SHOWING THE IMPERIAL BOX DURING THE PERFORMANCE OF A BALLET]

Further on, and nearest to the Museum of the Janissaries, is the Colossus, which is more than half as high again as the obelisk. It rests upon a base with three steps. It was once covered with brazen plates riveted with iron pins. In the time of Gyllius it was already ”despoiled of its outward beauteous appearance, and discovers only the workmans.h.i.+p of its inside, as having felt the effects of the avarice and rapine of the barbarians.” All the columns were, during the days of the Empire, regarded as great treasures. The obelisk was restored by Constantine Porphyrogenitus.