The Mosque of St. Sophia and its beauties, and some legends that
attach to it--The present state of its courts--The Sea of Marmora
and an historical pageant: Genoese, Venetians, Khairreddin
Barbarossa and his victories--The story of stout Sir Thomas
Bentinck--The Palace of Justinian and its story: Theophane and her
husbands--The Mosque of Achmet--At-meïdan, the former Hippodrome,
and its story--Justin, Justinian and Theodora, and the Blues and
Greens--Justinian II and his doings--Some reflections on modern
history.
[Illustration: By the Seraglio Walls
Showing the gate by which the Sultans used to enter St. Sophia, and the
dome of St. Irene.]
Just without the walls of the Seraglio stands a building which above all
others is connected with Constantinople in the popular mind, the former
Church, now Mosque, of St. Sophia. This is one of those particular
monuments of history which every one of any pretension to culture wishes
to see. A mighty, imposing building, measuring 255 feet from north to
south by 250 from east to west. This was the cathedral church of old
Byzantium built in the twentieth year of the reign of Constantine the
Great, A.D. 325, and dedicated to Divine Wisdom. Constantine's son
Constantius enlarged the building, which was destroyed by fire in the
reign of Arcadius, 395-408, in whose time the Goths came down over the
hills by Adrianople and devastated the land as far as the Peloponese. It
is said that the faction of St. John Chrysostom set fire to this
building during one of those religious disturbances which, more than
elsewhere in the world, unsettled the minds of men and caused them to
overlook the greater truths. Theodosius II, he who built the stout walls
that guarded the City of Constantine on the landward side for many
centuries, re-erected the cathedral in 415, but little more than a
century later, in the reign of Justinian, it fell a victim to the flames
again. Twice did this happen in the reign of Justinian, the second time
during a revolt of different factions in the Hippodrome, but St. Sophia
was rebuilt again in greater splendour and on a larger scale in A.D.
538.
This Church of St. Sophia became the scene of many solemn state
functions and religious ceremonies, the fumes of incense curled round
its many pillars of porphyry from Phrygia--white marble striped
rose-red, as with the blood of Atys slain at Synada; of green marble
from Laconia, and blue from Lybia. Celtic marble quarries sent their
tribute, black with white veins, and from the Bosphorus came white
black-veined marble. Among the most beautiful of all these pillars were
those eight which Aurelius had taken from the Temple of the Sun at
Baalbec. Then there were monuments of gold, cunningly wrought, enriched
with the most precious stones, and about all these glories floated hymns
of praise or supplication to the God about Whose Triune Person the
citizens wrangled and fought in the Hippodrome and in the narrow
streets.
Legend has it that this work of man's hand was made yet more glorious by
angelic influences. An angel appeared to order the work of the ten
thousand men engaged in the reconstruction under Justinian; he appeared
again, robed in brilliant white, to a boy guarding the masons' tools by
night and ordered an immediate continuance of the pious work, and yet a
third time to lead the mules of the Treasury into the vaults to be laden
with eighty hundredweight of gold wherewith to decorate the sacred fane.
One more angel appeared, this time to the Emperor himself, clad in
Imperial purple, wearing red shoes, to ordain that the light should fall
through three windows upon the High Altar, this in memory of Holy
Trinity. On Christmas Day of 548 Emperor Justinian and Eutychius the
Patriarch moved to the newly reconstructed sanctuary with all the pomp
and ceremony of the Church. No sooner were the doors opened than the
Emperor ran in with outstretched arms crying, "God be praised, Who hath
esteemed me worthy to complete such a work. Solomon, I have surpassed
thee!"
Not quite ten centuries later, in May of 1453 at Pentecost, the
Patriarch was celebrating High Mass within the walls of St. Sophia, the
fumes of incense floated heavenward with the supplications of the
people, while the Turk was battering down the stout defences of the city
and the Emperor and his followers were falling under the sword of Othman
about the ruined ramparts. The Mass was interrupted and has never since
been resumed, for from that day to this the Crescent has gleamed on the
dome, the High Altar has faced towards Mecca, and from the attendant
minarets the imam has called the followers of the Prophet to prayer. To
the ancient Christian legends of angels the Turks have added traditions
of their own. Near the Mihrab is a window facing north; here Sheik ak
Shemseddin, the companion of Mohammed the Conqueror, first expounded the
Koran.
[Illustration: ROUMELI HISSAR
The first fortress built by the Turks on European soil. Built by
Mohammed the Conqueror, the ground plan being that monarch's cypher.]
In this Feast of Bairam, the Turkish Pentecost, the courts of St. Sophia
were crowded with Turkish soldiery, some wounded, others stricken with
cholera, and in and out of the upper gate of the Seraglio, through which
the Sultan was wont to issue for worship in the Mosque of Sophia,
convoys of sick were wending their weary way, soldiers and stores were
passing, for the enemy was before the gates--not the old enceinte of the
City, but the lines of Chatalja stretching from the Sea of Marmora to
the Black Sea--and he was demanding admission in order to complete
the High Mass interrupted on that day in May four and a half
centuries ago.
After sketching a corner of the enclosure of St. Sophia and a bit of the
Seraglio wall, over which the graceful cupola of St. Irene appears, a
policeman stopped me for the first time in my experience of this city,
but he was satisfied with a sight of my passport, which probably
conveyed no definite idea to his mind. I went down towards the Sea of
Marmora to renew my acquaintance with several historic places and to
muse over the strange vicissitudes of this City of Constantine. It was a
fine, clear day, unusually warm for November, and the Sea of Marmora
shone in myriads of sparkling facets under the midday sun. Strange
stories of ancient days came crowding in upon me. I seemed to see the
face of the waters veiled by a cloud of swift-sailing vessels. This
strange pageant came up out of the south, Genoese, experienced
travellers and redoubtable warriors, then Venetians, the only seafarers
who ever tried the strength of old Byzantium's sea-walls. In double line
they came bearing down upon the walls under Dandolo, the venerable Doge.
Sailors leapt from the swifter craft and scaled the walls, while from
the heavier ships with turrets and high of poop, and from platforms for
the engines of war then in use, drawbridges were lowered to the summit
of the walls. Already the standard of St. Mark waved from twenty-five
towers and fire drove the Greeks from the adjacent defences. But Dandolo
decided to forgo the advantage he had gained and to hasten to assist the
exhausted band of Latins who were suffering under the superior numbers
of the Greeks before the land-walls. The aspect of affairs was so
serious that Alexius, the Emperor, fled with a treasure of some ten
thousand pounds to an obscure Thracian harbour, basely deserting his
wife and people. Next came Khairreddin, called Barbarossa, High Admiral
of Suleiman I. Khairreddin was one of four brothers whose trade was
piracy, then a most gentlemanly profession. He and his brother Urudsh
first sailed under the flag of the Tunisian Sultan, but paid tribute to
Suleiman. They conquered Tunis, Algiers, and all the Barbary coast, and
held these provinces in fief. How many of those overseas possessions now
owe allegiance to the Porte? Charles V, Emperor of the Holy Roman
Empire, "Deutscher Nation," sent Genoa's greatest admiral, Doria, with a
mighty fleet against Khairreddin, but they were dispersed by the
eighty-four fast ships of Barbarossa, who scoured the Mediterranean Sea,
ravaged the coasts of Italy, Minorca, even distant Spain, beating the
combined naval forces of Emperor, Pope, and Venetian Republic, off
Prevesa. Khairreddin Barbarossa lies buried on the banks of the
Bosphorus. Not long after Barbarossa's day a new sea-power began to make
its influence felt; it stretched out feelers towards Constantinople, and
when Amurath II was Sultan the Red Cross of St. George was seen for the
first time from the sea-walls of Constantinople. English ships came
sailing up from the south bearing messages to the Porte from Elizabeth,
Queen of England.
When Ibrahim ruled over Turkey from 1640-1648 all manner of excesses
went unpunished owing to the maladministration of a bad Sultan. Some
English ships lying in harbour were plundered. In those days it was the
custom for any one who had received an injury from minister or official
to place fire on his head and hurry to the palace. Redress for the
injury to British ships having been refused by the Porte, Sir Thomas
Bentinck brought the ships up from Galata, anchored them below the
palace windows, and lighted fires on every yard-arm. This manoeuvre
sent the Grand Vizier hurrying to the Ambassador with offers of
settlement in full.
There was one place I revisited down by the Sea of Marmora which tells
of evil deeds done one dark night in the days of old Byzant. It is the
Palace of Justinian, by some called after Hormisdas or Hormouz, a
Persian prince who sought refuge here with Constantine the Great.
A woman of low origin, Theophane, had married Romanus II, the Emperor, a
man whose short reign added no lustre to the pages of the Empire's
history, for he spent his time in idleness. Theophane tired of her
spouse and killed him by poison, and was minded to reign in the name of
her two sons Basil and Constantine, one five, the other three years old.
But the weight of responsibility was too great for her to bear, and she
looked about for a strong man to support her. She found one in
Nicephorus Phocas, then accounted the bravest soldier in the land; he
was therefore popular with the people. But soon after Theophane had
disposed of her first husband, and her second, Nicephorus, had ascended
the throne, the fickle population turned from him and gave evidence of
their discontent by stoning him. Nicephorus was forced to seek refuge in
this Palace of Justinian, which he had strengthened considerably for his
own defence against the people of the City. But Fate overtook him,
coming from the Sea of Marmora. One winter's night in 963, when the
gates of the palace were locked and bolted, the windows barred, and as
additional precaution the Emperor had moved from the room he generally
occupied into a smaller chamber, a boat was made fast at the foot of the
palace steps. Headed by John Zimisces, Theophane's lover, a band of
assassins entered the palace, they were joined by others hiding in the
Empress's chamber; with much cruelty and insult they put Nicephorus
Phocas to death.
To-day as the visitor to Constantinople looks out to the Sea of Marmora
over the seaward walls he may see the smoke of foreign warships curling
upward--by the Asiatic coast a French warship, the sunlight glinting on
her many round turrets, some way towards south-west the long hull of a
British cruiser against the sky, and further towards the west yet
another foreign vessel, Austrian, moving slowly, watching events by the
lake at the southern ends of the lines of Chatalja; for history is in
the making here, the enemy is before the gates, Turks and Bulgarians,
with them Serbs, are fighting for a settlement of long outstanding
accounts.
[Illustration: A Deserted Street
Weary soldiers, sick and slightly wounded, trudged past up to the mosque
erected by Suleiman to commemorate his many victories.]
Leaving the ruined Palace of Justinian I made my way up towards the hill
on which stands the Mosque of Achmed, which rises so proudly with its
six minarets above the little houses that cluster on the slope. I passed
through more ruins on my way, not remains of ancient Byzant, but the
results of one of the numerous fires to which Stamboul is well
accustomed, and which it is so ill fitted to control. It was a peaceful
spot, and quite deserted but for a very small boy who entertained me
with an imitation of a railway engine engaged in shunting, a manoeuvre
of which whistling was the chief feature. We were not alone for long ere
another body of weary soldiers, sick and slightly wounded, trudged past
us up to the mosque erected by Suleiman to commemorate his many
victories. He it was who carried the Crescent triumphant through Hungary
to the gates of Vienna, leaving behind him Serbs and Bulgars in slavery.
Those very nations have been trying the power of the Porte beyond the
walls and are longing to enter; it is they who have reduced those
Turkish soldiers to their present state of misery. The possessions on
the southern littoral of the Mediterranean Sea, which Khairreddin
Barbarossa added to Suleiman's dominions, have been wrenched from the
feeble grasp of his successor, and the courtyard of the great Sultan's
mosque is crowded with refugees from Thrace and Macedonia, provinces won
by the sword, lost by the sword, and the soldiers sent to defend them
are now resting, sick and wounded, in the shadow of the Suleimanyeh.
Through the gratings of the enclosing wall of the Suleimanyeh refugees
and soldiers look out at the passersby on to a large space, the theatre
of many scenes in the history of ancient Byzant. Little they know,
little they care, for such matters, for their troubles are very present.
The refugees have had to leave their homesteads in Thrace and Macedonia,
taking with them their most treasured belongings, leaving the fruits of
harvest to the invaders. It is said that fear of their own soldiery
rather than of the enemy compelled them to flee. Fathers, husbands, and
sons of these refugees are among the sick and wounded. One case I know
of where a wounded soldier just discharged from hospital set out to find
his family, which he heard had migrated to Asia Minor. Whither they have
gone he knows not at all, but he has set out on his search, and in his
pocket only a dollar, but his heart full of trust in Allah.
Suleiman built his mosque and its enclosure on part of the former
Hippodrome, and its erection covered a space of five years, from
1550-1555. St. Sophia was taken as model, and relics of the Greek Empire
went to its construction. It looks down on an open space, all that
remains of the ancient Hippodrome, At-meïdan, as it is now called.
Several ancient monuments stand here dating from the time of the Greek
Emperors--the obelisk of Egyptian granite, a four-cornered shaft some
fifty feet high, brought from Heliopolis and set up by the Emperor
Theodosius; the remains more curious still of the column of the Three
Serpents, of bronze and about fifteen feet in height. The serpents seem
to grow out of the ground, but the illusion is rather spoilt by the fact
that they have lost their heads; one of them at least is said to have
been struck off by Mohammed the Conqueror. This column has had an
eventful history; it is said to have been taken by the Greeks from the
Persians at the battle of Platæa, 479 B.C., and kept at Delphi,
dedicated to the Oracle, until the time of Pausanias. Constantine the
Great then had it removed to his City, and set it up where it now
stands.
Among the memories that haunt At-meïdan, the Hippodrome of old Byzant,
are strongest those of the days of Justinian and Theodora his wife.
Justinian, nephew of Justin, a simple Dacian who rose step by step to
the Imperial Purple, he and his contemporary Theodoric, King of Italy,
were illiterate, a strange thing in those days when learning was no
uncommon thing among all classes. Justin sent to Dacia for his nephew to
train him for high Imperial office, and trained him well during the nine
years of his reign. So on the death of Justin, Justinian inherited the
throne, and with his many advantages should have proved successful. He
was comely of face and of great bodily strength, full of the best
intentions and restless in pursuit of knowledge; the wars he undertook
he brought to a happy issue, and the laws he framed should have won the
gratitude of his people. Yet they loved not Justinian, and by some this
is ascribed to Theodora his wife: Theodora, the actress, the dancer,
Justinian's Empress!
Two factions, Blue and Green, influenced the fortunes of Constantinople
in those days. The Green faction employed one Acacius as keeper of the
wild beasts for their games; he was Theodora's father. On his death the
mother brought Theodora and her sisters to the theatre, where they
appeared in the garb of supplicants. The Green faction received them
with contempt, by the Blue faction they were kindly entreated, so
Theodora favoured that colour ever after. The details of Theodora's life
as actress, dancer, need not concern us; a son was born to her during
this period of her existence. Many years later the father of the child,
when dying, told him: "Your mother is an Empress." The son of Theodora
hastened to Constantinople, hurried to the palace to present himself,
and was never seen again. For a while Theodora lived in seclusion in
Alexandria, then she had a vision which told her that she was destined
to wear the Imperial Purple; she returned to Constantinople, won
Justinian's love, and verified the vision's prophecy.
Another Justinian, second of that name, played his short part in the
history of Byzant, in scenes enacted in the Hippodrome. In all things
different from his great predecessor, for he was feeble of intellect and
unable to control his passions, neither was he faithful to his wife,
another Theodora, whose love saved his life when her brother, the Khan
of the Chazars, bribed by Byzantine gold, sought to take it. This
Justinian ruled with great cruelty, through the hands of his favourite
ministers, and succeeded by their aid in braving the growing hatred of
his subjects. A sudden impulse, rather than any sense of the justice he
habitually outraged, led him to liberate one Leontius, a general of
great renown, who had suffered unjust imprisonment for several years.
Leontius, raised to honour and appointed Governor of Greece, headed a
conspiracy which resulted in the populace breaking open the prisons and
releasing many innocent sufferers from the Emperor's injustice. Then in
their thousands an excited populace swarmed to the Church of St. Sophia,
where the Patriarch, taking as text for his sermon, "This is the day of
the Lord," still further inflamed the passions of the mob. They crowded
into the Hippodrome, dragged Justinian before the insurgent judges, who
clamoured for his immediate death. But Leontius, already clothed in the
Purple, was merciful to the son of his former master and friend; so
Justinian, the scion of so many Emperors, was deposed and, slightly
mutilated about the face, banished to the Crimea.
Here Justinian waited for revenge while Constantinople's fickle
population revolted from Leontius and placed Apsimar, as Emperor
Tiberius, on the throne. But he failed to satisfy the mob, and so when
Justinian appeared before the City walls and besieged his own capital
with a Bulgarian army the citizens opened the gates and re-instated him.
So the Hippodrome witnessed Justinian's return to power. He sat on his
throne watching the chariot race, one foot on the neck of each captive
usurper Leontius and Apsimar in chains, while the fickle people shouted
in the words of the Psalmist: "Thou shalt trample on the asp and
basilisk, and on the lion and the dragon shalt thou set thy foot." On
the conclusion of the games Leontius and Apsimar were led away to
execution.
[Illustration: The Mosque of St. Sophia
Refugees from Thrace, seeking shelter in the courtyard of the Mosque of
Achmet. In the background the Mosque of St. Sophia.]
These are some of the strange scenes which the Hippodrome has witnessed
ere the Turk crowned his conquests by the taking of Constantinople. Here
overlooking one end of At-meïdan, where the Janissaries used to exercise
their horses, is the building which contains many relics of that famous
corps; the Janissaries are no more, for, like the Prætorian guard, they
became a danger to their sovereign. Here on At-meïdan the Ottoman
Exhibition was held in 1863. How many changes have taken place in Europe
since those days when Abdul Aziz was Sultan! The uncalled-for Crimean
War was scarcely at an end and Turkey's European possessions showed a
tendency towards disruption, but things went very well for all that, and
no one among the general public noticed the rise of a great Power in
the north. The year following saw Prussia master of Schleswig-Holstein,
two years from then Austria had been beaten and the southern German
States forced into union by the same Power. Then by the time another
four or five years had passed, the French Empire fell, and the German
Empire became an accomplished fact. Roumania, Servia, Bulgaria have
become kingdoms independent of the Sublime Porte; Bosnia and Herzegovina
are no longer Turkish provinces, neither does Tripolitana form part of
the Ottoman Empire any longer. Over Macedonia and Thrace the Slav
enemies of Turkey, formerly that country's vassals, fly their victorious
colours. Montenegro has occupied part of the Adriatic coast, the
Hellenes have seized Saloniki, and foreign warships have landed their
contingents in Constantinople. Beyond the walls of the City which
Mohammed conquered Bulgarians and Slavs are clamouring for admittance;
within the walls the beaten Osmanli troops fill the hospitals, crowd the
enclosures of mosques erected by conquering Sultans, and die daily by
hundreds from neglected wounds, from sickness, above all from that dread
Asiatic scourge, cholera.