Chapter 8

CONSTANTINOPLE AND SANTA SOPHIA.

On Wednesday morning, February twenty-fifth, the ladies donned winter wraps and the gentlemen heavy overcoats for their morning promenades on deck. All night the Moltke had steamed northward and the region of palms and orange trees had been left behind. By referring to the large atlas of the world in the library, we found that we were in the same latitude as that of New York City.

As we approached the entrance to the Strait of Dardanelles, the ancient Hellespont, which connects the Ægean Sea with the Sea of Marmora, the Turkish fortifications crowning the hills on both sides of the channel were plainly visible. Under the great guns of the fortresses the Moltke anchored.

"Why do we stop here?" inquired one of the tourists of the surgeon, who was standing near watching the shore.

"This is the quarantine station," replied the doctor, "and we must wait here for the official inspection. According to Turkish regulations, the passage of foreign warships through the Dardanelles is absolutely prohibited at any time and merchant vessels are not allowed to enter during the night. Every vessel arriving here must undergo inspection before receiving a permit to proceed. The Sultan guards this gateway to the most vulnerable part of his dominion, not only to prevent the entrance of a hostile fleet, but to protect his people from the incursions of that insidious foe, the plague, which sometimes ravages the Eastern countries. There come the officials now in response to our signals," he added as a yacht steamed out from the shore. "I must go with the captain to welcome them at the head of the gangway."

The Turkish quarantine physician in red fez and handsome fur overcoat, accompanied by his assistants and the inspector, came on board. Madam Rumor whispers that a good sized tip sometimes obviates tedious personal examinations and insures prompt issuance of a clean bill of health without exasperating delays. However it was, the quarantine physician, after consulting with the ship physician, quickly found the health conditions satisfactory, and the inspector of cargoes granted his permit. The pilot who was to guide the vessel through the swiftly flowing current of the Hellespont joined us here, and with him came the dragoman or chief guide who had been engaged by the managers to take special charge of the sight-seeing excursions of our party while in Constantinople.

Proceeding slowly on our way, we noticed half a dozen Turkish warships lying in the stream near by. One who claimed to know said that the Turkish naval vessels had been gathering barnacles and mussels for four years and were unfit for active service. But the fortresses guarding the strait, he said, were in excellent condition and well equipped with batteries of modern make.

The Strait of Dardanelles, for a distance of forty miles separating the continent of Asia from that of Europe, varies in width, narrowing to less than one mile at some places and broadening out to four miles at others. By referring to the steamer's atlas, consulting guide books, exchanging historical knowledge, and questioning good-natured officials, the tourists obtained information about the various points of interest that they were passing. Beyond the entrance, at the narrowest point of the strait, the place was pointed out where the Persian king Xerxes with his vast army crossed the channel on a bridge of boats for the invasion of Europe in the year 480 B.C.

"Little then," remarked a tourist, "did that imperious invader dream that within a year, in humiliation and defeat, and with only a poor remnant of that great army, he would recross that strait to Asia again."

At the same place in the channel, we were informed, Alexander the Great with his Greek legions crossed from Europe in the year 334 B.C. and continued his victorious march until all the then known portion of Asia was subdued to his rule.

"Then," said another tourist, "when flushed with victory, he wept for other worlds to conquer. To me the saddest part of Alexander's history is that he was himself conquered by his own appetite and never returned to his native shore."

Another tragic tale connected with that place is the story of Hero and Leander. Across that mile of swiftly flowing current, the story says, Leander nightly swam from Abydos to the tower on the opposite shore to visit his beloved Hero, the priestess of Venus. In one of his nightly excursions the swimmer was drowned in a storm, and Hero, after hearing of Leander's death, despairingly threw herself into the sea to share his sad fate.

"There is the height from which Hero cast herself," said an official, "and this is the place where Lord Byron, in emulation of Leander, performed the same difficult feat of swimming the channel."

To the right, on the Asian shore not far away, was the plain of Troy where Dr. Schlieman won fame by making the excavations and discoveries which led to the location of the lost city of Troy. In this ancient city of Troy, according to Homer, the beautiful Grecian princess Helen, abducted by Paris, the son of the King of Troy, was detained for ten years. The enraged Greeks under Ulysses and Ajax, seeking to rescue the princess, besieged the city and finally succeeded in entering its gates and accomplishing their purpose by means of the stratagem of a huge wooden horse.

After sailing through the length of the Sea of Marmora, about one hundred and ten miles, we arrived at five o'clock in the evening within sight of the domes and minarets that crown the promontory at the entrance to the Strait of Bosporus. From the time we caught our first glimpse of a distant minaret, until the anchor of our steamer was dropped in the channel, every tourist was intent on the picturesque views which presented themselves. While the Moltke was steadily moving onward and our point of view continually changing, the dragoman at intervals pointed out the various places of interest, now on one side, now on the other.

"The Strait of Bosporus, which we are now approaching, is here a little over a mile in width," said he. "The part of the city you see on the headland on the north shore of the Strait is the oldest part of Constantinople, and is called Stamboul. It is occupied principally by Turks, Greeks, Armenians, and Jews. The most celebrated mosques, and also the great bazaars in which tourists delight to wander, are in Stamboul."

"That dome with six minarets surrounding it, partially hidden by the intervening trees and buildings, is the Mosque of Ahmed, one of the most interesting in the city. Beyond it you can see the dome and four minarets of the more famous St. Sophia. The name of this is probably familiar to you, for almost every visitor whom I have escorted has told me that he had heard of the Mosque of St. Sophia."

"And that is Scutari," he continued, calling our attention to the city on the Asiatic shore of the strait. "The great square yellow building so prominent on that side is the military barracks. The large structure nearer us is the military hospital where the English lady nursed the soldiers during the war with Russia fifty years ago. Perhaps you have heard of the lady?"

We informed the dragoman that the noble work of Florence Nightingale during the Crimean war was well known to the American people, and her name held in high honor by them.

"The point beyond us on the left," said the guide a few minutes later, "is called Seraglio Point. The portion of the city on the promontory, extending along the Bosporus, is about one mile in length and half a mile in width and is called the Seraglio. In these extensive grounds are the well guarded Treasury buildings containing the accumulated treasures of centuries, the Imperial Museum of Antiquities, and many other public edifices. There also are the palaces, kiosks, and gardens, which were occupied by the Sultans and their families until the present Sultan changed his residence to another part of the city.

"The stream of water to our left," he added as our steamer rounded Seraglio Point, "is called the Golden Horn, so named on account of its curved shape. This inlet of the Bosporus, not over one-third of a mile in width, separates the older Stamboul from old Galata and newer Pera. Over the two bridges across this inlet streams of people pass constantly. Galata is the business section of the city which includes the wharves, steamship offices, and wholesale establishments. Pera, situated on the heights above Galata, contains the residences of the wealthier class, as well as hotels, modern stores, and the residences of the ambassadors and consuls."

After passing the mouth of the Golden Horn, the Moltke slackened speed and anchored in the Bosporus apposite Galata, a little way from the shore. Prominent on the shore at the water's edge, not far from our anchorage, stood a small but beautiful white mosque with delicate minarets, and just beyond it a snow white palace of magnificent size.

"The white marble building that you see extending for some distance along the Bosporus," said the guide, "is the Dolmah Bagcheh Palace of the Sultan, one of the magnificent palaces which he does not occupy. Once or twice a year he holds a reception there. In the distance along the water is the Cheraghan Palace where the imprisoned ex-Sultan Murad, the elder brother of the present Sultan, for many years had every luxury but liberty. And on the heights just beyond those grounds is Yildiz Kiosk, the palace where now lives the present ruler of Turkey, his Imperial Majesty, Sultan Abdul Hamid. Strangers are not permitted to enter its gates, but we have obtained his Imperial Majesty's permission to take your party through the Dolmah Bagcheh Palace."

Our steamer had barely anchored when a steam yacht flying the emblem of Turkey, a red flag with a white crescent and star, appeared alongside. Several red-fezzed Turkish officials, on whose green frock coats dangled medals and badges, mounted the stairway to receive the report of the vessel and examine and visé the passports of the passengers. The stewards collected the passports and handed them to the Sultan's officers, who afterwards returned them stamped in queer-looking characters with the official seal of the Turkish government.

"Captain, can you not send us ashore?" requested some of the tourists after the evening dinner was over.

"I would gladly send you ashore if I considered it safe for you to go," replied the Captain, "but I advise you to remain on board. There is little to be seen after sunset in this unlighted city. Although the principal streets are lighted with gas, many of the streets depend upon the moon and stars and so on cloudy nights are left in utter darkness. Strangers may with safety wander around the city during the day, but it is dangerous for them to do so at night. The lower part of the city along the wharves is infested with thieves who have little regard for the life of an infidel, and who under cover of darkness would cut one's throat and cast the body into the stream in order to secure a few valuables."

The Captain's advice was taken and the evening was delightfully spent on the vessel. The American Consul and his wife came on board to meet some friends and to welcome all the Americans. Then, according to a plan which had been made by the managers of the tour, a resident of the city delivered an instructive address on the history of Constantinople. The lecturer told of Constantine the Great, first Christian emperor and founder of the city; of Justinian, the imperial legislator and builder, and his empress Theodora, the beautiful comedian who became a queen; of the heroic warrior Belisarius and his emperor's ingratitude; of the Greek girl Irene who rose to supreme power; of the bloody religious riots and theological disputes; of the Nicene Council and adoption of the Nicene creed; and of the pillage of Constantinople by the ruthless Crusaders. He told also of the marriage ceremonies, of the art and commerce, and of the places of interest about the city. His remarks about the former trade and literature of the city were most interesting.

"During the earlier centuries of the Eastern Roman Empire," said the lecturer, "Constantinople, the capital, was a great centre of trade, an exchange market for the products of the world. Caravans brought the treasures of the East to the storehouses here to be bartered for the cargoes of produce which came in ships from the West. This exchange brought wealth and prosperity to the city. In later centuries the Venetians and Genoese succeeded in transferring much of this business to Venice and Genoa and the trade of Constantinople declined. In modern days steamships and the Suez canal have completely changed the route of commerce.

"Constantinople, not only was a centre of trade, but in the Twelfth and Thirteenth centuries it was the centre of literature. During the dark ages, when the study of literature was generally neglected in other places, the lamp of learning burned brightly in this city. Libraries were established and manuscripts accumulated; but at the time of the Turkish invasion a multitude of the most valuable documents were destroyed. When the Renaissance brought new life to the western shores, the centre of literature moved to Italy, and printed books took the place of manuscripts."

When we thought of the present standing of Turkey among the nations of the world, it was difficult to realize that for centuries Constantinople was the commercial centre and the brilliant capital of the world. It was even more difficult to realize that the country which now prohibits the importation of foreign books and papers was at one time the patron of art, literature, and learning, the collector of great libraries of illuminated manuscripts, theological discourses, and legal documents. But that was centuries ago.

Thursday morning ushered in a bright, clear, cool day. We were up early, eager for sight-seeing, and little boats soon carried us to the custom house pier on the Galata side. Open carriages drawn by wiry Turkish horses and driven by Turkish drivers were there in readiness to carry us across the Golden Horn to explore the sights of Stamboul. As our carriages rattled over the plank pontoon bridge with its drawbridge in the center, we passed through a crowd of people more varied as to nationality and costume than can be seen at almost any other place on the globe. The Turks, of course, predominated, their nationality being indicated by the national head-gear,--the red fez. The wealthier Turks wore the English style of clothing and the red fez. The costumes of the other classes varied according to their occupation. On the bridge as our driver guided his team through the throng, we saw Turkish soldiers in blue uniforms and red fez; Moslems wearing a green sash around the fez to indicate that they had performed a pilgrimage to Mecca; stately-looking bearded Greek priests in black robes and peculiar hats; Nubians with black glistening skins and tattooed faces; Moslem priests with pure white turbans, and Moslem priests with high green turbans; Russian or Hungarian peasants with coats of sheep skin, the fleecy sides of which were turned inward; Dervishes in brown mantles, and high-coned brown hats without brims; Hebrews in long yellow coats and little curls at the sides of their heads; Turks in gold embroidered trousers and jackets and long flowing blue sleeves; Turkish women with faces closely veiled, and negro women who concealed their features behind white veils in the same manner as the Turkish women.

"Those cakes looked so good, I was almost tempted to take one off the tray," said one of the occupants of our carriage, as a peddler carrying on his head a table filled with cakes and pastry passed so closely that his wares were within reach.

"Oh, how could you think of doing such a thing," hastily exclaimed her companion, horrified at the thought, "we should all be placed in a dungeon and our pleasure ended."

Peddlers of dates, bearing their stock of fruit in huge baskets on their backs and carrying scales in one hand, held up a sample of dates towards us with the other hand; dealers in nuts in the same manner carried and offered their wares to the passers-by; peddlers of "Turkish delight" and other sweetmeats arranged the candies on their trays in an attractive manner; and the sherbet sellers called attention to the pink liquid in large glass bottles suspended on their backs. At each end of the bridge were half a dozen toll collectors in long white overshirts who stood in line across the way collecting the toll of ten paras, or one cent, from each person that crossed.

"How clearly that dome and the two minarets stand out against the sky," exclaimed one of the party, pointing to a great dome and two delicate minarets with tapering peaks which rose above the buildings directly in front of us on the other side of the bridge.

"That is the Mosque where the Sultans and their families went to prayer when they resided in the Seraglio near by. We will not stop at this Mosque but will go directly to the Mosque of St. Sophia."

"Professor," said the lady who in Athens had confessed her ignorance of history, "please give us some information about the church of St. Sophia while we are grouped here together in front of the building."

The professor expressed his willingness to do so, provided we were willing to take the time to listen.

"In the year 532 A.D.," said he, "Justinian, the Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, decided to erect in Constantinople a church that should be a glory to the city and an honor to his name. His desire was to build one 'such as since Adam has never been seen,' a structure differing in design from any Christian temple previously constructed and surpassing in magnificence any temple that afterwards might be built. The empire was then at the height of its power and glory, and Justinian, in emulation of Solomon, made demands on all the countries under his dominion for contributions of ivory, cedar, gold, silver, precious stones, and the rarest marbles.

"In order to attain his ambitious design, the monarch robbed the Temple of the Sun at Baalbek of columns of porphyry, despoiled the Temple of Diana of Ephesus of its finest pillars, took columns of pure white marble from the Temple of Minerva at Athens, and divested the shrines of Isis and Osiris in Egypt of their choicest granite columns. He called upon the quarries of Italy, Greece, and the Ægean Isles for marbles of every hue produced by them, so that, when completed, the temple should contain the most beautiful marbles the world could yield, and these he ordered to be highly polished and artistically arranged. To hasten the construction, ten thousand workmen under the direction of one hundred architects were employed, and in less than six years the immense structure, 'the great Church of Santa Sophia, or Heavenly Wisdom,' one of the most famous churches of the world, was ready for dedication.

"The great altar was built of silver and gold, the seven chairs of the bishops were plated with silver, the crosses and crucifixes were composed of pure gold, and the altar cloth and vestments were encrusted with precious stones. Jeweled images of saints, sacred paintings of fabulous value, and holy relics to be adored by kneeling worshipers, were arranged around the walls of the building. The huge doors of the temple were made of cedar, ivory, amber, and silver; the ceiling glistened with golden mosaics; the walls shone with polished marbles: and the capitals of the columns were laced with delicate carvings inset with mother-of-pearl, silver, and precious stones.

"On the day of the dedication of the temple a jubilant procession of patriarchs, bishops, priests, and people, in admiring wonder, entered the completed building with songs and rejoicings. The Emperor, at the head of the procession, overcome with pride and joy in the glorious consummation of his purpose, threw himself upon the floor and exultingly exclaimed: 'Glory to God who has deemed me worthy to accomplish so great a work. O Solomon, I have surpassed thee!'

"In this sanctuary for over nine centuries the people worshiped God according to the Christian faith in great pomp and with much ceremony. The bishops officiated at the golden altar reading from golden lettered manuscripts, and were assisted in the service by scores of richly robed priests and hundreds of selected musicians, while the air was filled with the fragrance of rising incense. But during the latter part of the Middle Ages while the power and glory of the Roman Empire was gradually declining, the rival Mohammedan Turkish Empire in Asia was rapidly ascending to a dominant position. Finally, in the year 1453 A.D., the Sultan of Asiatic Turkey, Muhammed II, determined to obtain possession of Constantinople and make the city the capital of his empire. His army besieged the decadent city and captured it after a struggle of fifty-three days. When the Turkish troops entered in triumph they tore the emblems of Christianity from their places and, instead of the cross of the Christian, they raised the crescent of the Moslem.

"In the church of St. Sophia the conquerors tore down the golden altar, melted the silver plates, removed the images of saints, painted over the sacred pictures, and took away the jewels and precious stones, changing the interior to suit the simpler worship of the followers of Mahomet. The name of the building was changed and it was thereafter known as the Mosque of Saint Sophia. For four hundred and fifty years the Mosque has been in possession of the Turks. Its doors are open at all times for Moslems to enter freely; but the entrance is carefully guarded to keep Christian or foreign visitors from intruding. The latter, however, may gain admission by paying an entrance fee of forty cents, and removing their shoes at the door or lacing over their shoes the loose slippers that are provided for this purpose."

On the porch of the Mosque we put our feet into the loose slippers, a Moslem attendant tied them on as carefully as the clumsy things could be tied, and then, accompanied by him, we entered the building. The immense floor, an acre in size, was covered with handsome heavy rugs. As we slid, rather than walked, over the soft Turkish carpets, our turbaned guide, with sharp, piercing, black eyes, watched carefully to see that our slippers did not become unfastened and drop off, and our infidel shoes profane the holy enclosure. And when one of the visitors laughed within the sacred edifice, the attendant's black eyes flashed with anger.

It was not the regular hour for prayer in the mosque, but a number of worshipers were devoutly kneeling at different places in the interior, with faces turned toward a black stone in the south wall, which indicated the direction of the holy city of Mecca. Others, squatting on their bare heels, were reading or reciting in monotonous tones parts of the Koran. There are no benches or chairs in the building; Moslem worshipers do not require seats while at their devotions. The great dome, over one hundred feet in width, rises in grandeur one hundred and eighty feet overhead, supported by four huge columns each seventy feet in circumference. A circle of windows, forty-four in number, around the dome illumines the golden mosaics which cover the ceiling. A mosaic picture in the dome representing the Almighty, has been obliterated by the Turks and covered with green linen cloth. A verse from the Koran, in gilt Arabic characters almost thirty feet long, is painted on this cloth. The sentence, as translated, begins: "God is the light of heaven and earth," and ends, "God alone sheddeth His light on whomsoever He pleaseth."

"If the Moslems believe in the Bible and in God as a supreme being, why did they destroy the mosaic representation of God on the ceiling?" inquired one of the visitors.

"The Moslems do believe in the Bible and in one Supreme God," was the reply, "and it was this very belief that led them to paint out the picture of God and to destroy all the images and paintings of saints; for God's command is: 'Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in the heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them.'"

"The Moslems," continued the guide, "regard Mahomet as the Prophet of God, and the Koran as written by him under the inspiration of God; but they do not worship Mahomet or any image or picture of him."

We paused to admire the four green marble columns taken from the Temple of Diana, and the polished shafts brought from the Temple of the Sun, relics of those two magnificent cities, Ephesus and Baalbek, of whose grandeur nothing now remains but broken stones. We gazed upward at the eight immense green shields covered with Arabic characters, high above our heads on the walls. But we doubted the miraculous healing power of a small hole that is always damp in a bronze-covered pillar, and hesitated also to accept the tradition that the apparent imprint of a bloody hand in the marble wall was made by the Sultan Muhammed II when he rode into St. Sophia after the capture of the city.

"On Fridays," said the guide, as we stood at the foot of the marble steps that led to the elevated pulpit, "the priest, clad in a long red robe, reads a prayer for the Sultan, and, while doing so, holds in one hand the Koran and in the other a drawn sword to indicate that this temple was captured from the Christians by force."

"That prayer rug," he continued pointing to a beautiful carpet hanging on the wall near by, "was the personal prayer rug of the great conqueror Muhammed II. There is so much more to be seen," he added, "that we could spend the whole day here, but the dragoman is beckoning and we must go on."

We shook the slippers from our feet in the porch and were driven through narrow streets to the Grand Bazaar.

"The Grand Bazaar," said the guide, "covers several acres. It has one hundred entrances. There are twelve hundred narrow streets or passages under roof within the bazaar and on these streets are four thousand little shops."

The Grand Bazaar, we decided, was the enormous department store of Stamboul; but we noticed that each little shop had its own proprietor. To many of the visitors, this Bazaar was the most interesting place in Constantinople; for here were found the most tempting bargains in Oriental wares, in its narrow passages were seen the native people in their most picturesque costumes, and in its maze of dimly lighted corridors some tourists were lost for awhile and met with novel adventures.

The store of Far-Away-Moses was one of the largest and most popular of the shops in the Bazaar and that genial trader did a thriving business. There seemed to be a magnetic power that drew the guides in the direction of certain shops, an unseen influence that urged them to recommend certain places, and one of these places was Moses' emporium. Some of the ladies found that when they slipped away and entered a shop without a guide a better bargain could be secured.

The price named for articles in the bazaar shops by the fezzed or turbaned dealers was generally three times the price that they would accept before losing a sale; but much tact was required on the part of the purchaser, and much valuable time was occupied in the diplomatic struggles between the acute Yankees and clever Moslems. When, however, the battle was won and the desired article secured at one-half or one-third the price at first demanded, the joy of the purchaser was doubled. The person, who, after an hour's dickering, bought a bronze ornament for twenty piasters, or one dollar of American money, was just as happy over the bargain as the one who succeeded in purchasing a magnificent silk rug for twenty thousand piasters. The money drawers of the Moslem traders were swollen with their contents but their shelves were less crowded when the Americans left the bazaar.

When we returned to the vessel we found that during our absence the decks had been converted into a rival bazaar. The tourists who had failed to obtain souvenirs had another opportunity to buy them; for here were displayed silk rugs ranging in price from three thousand piasters downward, exquisite embroideries, rare silks, delicate fans, gold-laced shawls, fragrant attar of roses, and a multitude of articles in bronze, silver, and gold.

"How restful it is to recline lazily in our comfortable steamer chairs rolled up in a rug, dreaming or talking over the events of the day, without any cares or worries to disturb our thoughts," remarked one of our friends as we sat upon the deck in the later evening hours watching the glimmering lights on the shore.

"Yes," said another, "there seems to be nothing to disturb the serenity of the night; even the distant barking of the dogs appears to be in harmony with the soft lapping of the waves against the vessel. I feel that I shall rest to-night in my berth, as Shakespeare says, in a 'sleep that knits the ravel'd sleeve of care,' after the exertion of a full day of sight-seeing."