Apollo himself, it is said, pointed out the site where to build the city which is now known as Constantinople, and no better could have been found. In fact, the city occupies the most favoured spot on the Bosphorus. It stands on a peninsula of gently undulating hills, bounded by the Sea of Marmara and by the curved inlet called, from its shape, its beauty, and the valuable cargoes floating upon its waters, the “Golden Horn.” The swift current of the Bosphorus penetrates into this inlet, and sweeps it clean of all the refuse of the city. It then passes into the open sea at the extreme angle of the peninsula, and sailing vessels are thus able to reach their anchorage without having to struggle against a contrary current. This haven not only affords a secure anchorage to a multitude of vessels, but it likewise abounds in fish; for, in spite of the constant agitation of its waters by the oars of caiques and the paddles or screws of steamers, it is visited annually by shoals of tunnies and other fish. The haven of Constantinople, though easy of access to peaceable merchantmen, can readily be {99} closed in case of war. The surrounding heights command every approach to it, and a chain has more than once been drawn across the narrow entrance to its roadstead when the city was besieged. The latter, too, can be defended easily, for it is built upon hills, bounded on the land side by an extensive plain. An assailant, to insure success, must dispose not only of an army, but also of a powerful navy. In addition to all these natural advantages of its site, Constantinople is in the enjoyment of a climate far superior to that of the cities of the Black Sea, for it is screened by hills from cold northerly winds.

[Μ]

Fig. 31.—GEOLOGICAL MAP OF THE PENINSULA OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

According to F. von Hochstetter. Scale 1 : 1,370,000.

In the dawn of history, when migration and commerce marched only at a slow pace, a site as favoured as that of Byzantium was capable only of attracting the dwellers in its immediate neighbourhood. But after commerce had become developed, the blind alone—so said the oracle of Apollo—could fail to appreciate the great advantages held out by the Golden Horn. Indeed, Constantinople lies not only on the ocean highway which connects the world of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean with the Black Sea, but also on the high-road which leads from Asia into Europe. Geographically it may be described as occupying a position at {100} the mouths of the Danube, Dniester, Dnieper, Don, Rion, and Kizil Irmak, whose common outlet is the Bosphorus. When Constantine the Great constituted it the metropolis of the Roman empire, it grew rapidly in population and wealth; it soon became the city of cities; and its Turkish appellation, Stamboul, is nothing but a corruption of the expression es tam polin, used by the inhabitants to denote their going into the city. Amongst the distant tribes of Asia it represents Rome. They know it by no other name than that of “Rum,” and the country of which it is the capital they call “Rumelia.”

Constantinople is one of the most beautiful cities in the world: it is the “paradisiacal city” of Eastern nations. It may compare with Naples or Rio de Janeiro, and many travellers accord it the palm. As we approach the entrance of the Golden Horn, seated in a caique more graceful than the gondolas of Venice, the vast and varied panorama around us changes with every stroke of the oars. Beyond the white walls of the Seraglio and its masses of verdure rise here, am­phi­thea­tri­cal­ly on the seven hills of the peninsula, the houses of Stamboul—its towers, the vast domes of its mosques, with their circlets of smaller domes, and its elegant minarets, with their balconies. On the other side of the haven, which is crossed by bridges of boats, there are more mosques and towers, seen through a forest of masts and rigging, and covering the slope of a hill whose summit is crowned by regularly built houses and the palatial residences of Pera. On the north vast villa-cities extend along both shores of the Bosphorus. Towards the east, on a promontory of Asia, there is still another city, cradled amidst gardens and trees. This is Scutari, the Asiatic suburb of Constantinople, with its pink houses and vast cemetery shaded by beautiful cypress groves. Farther in the distance we perceive Kadi-koei, the ancient Chalcedon, and the small town of Prinkipo, on one of the Princes’ Islands, whose yellow rocks and verdant groves are reflected in the blue waters of the Sea of Marmara. The sheet of water connecting these various portions of the huge city is alive with vessels and boats, whose movements impart animation to the magnificent picture. The prospect from the heights above the town is still more magnificent. The coasts of Europe and Asia are beneath our feet, the eye can trace the sinuosities of the Bosphorus, and far away in the distance looms the snow-capped pyramidal summit of Mount Olympus, in Bithynia.

But this enchantment vanishes as soon as we penetrate into the streets of Constantinople. There are many parts of the town with narrow and filthy streets, which a stranger hesitates to enter. It is, perhaps, a blessing, from a sanitary point of view, that conflagrations so frequently lay waste and scour large portions of the city. Scarcely a night passes without the watchman on the tower of the Seraskieriate giving the alarm of fire, and thousands of houses are devoured by that element every year. The city thus renews itself by degrees. It rises from its ashes purified by the flames. But formerly, before the Turks had built their city of stone on the heights of Pera, the quarters destroyed by fire were rebuilt as wretchedly as they were before. It is different now. The use of stone has become more general; wooden structures are being replaced by houses built {101} of a fossiliferous white limestone, which is quarried at the very gates of the city; and free use is made of the blue and grey marbles of Marmara, and of the flesh-coloured ones of the Gulf of Cyzica, in Asia Minor, in decorating the palaces of the great.

Nearly every vestige of the monuments of ancient Byzantium has been swept away by fires or sieges. There only exists now the precious tripod of bronze, with its three serpents, which the Platæans had placed in the temple of Delphi in commemoration of their victory over the Persians. The relics of the epoch of the Byzantine emperors are limited to columns, obelisks, arches of aqueducts, the breached walls of the city, the remains of the palace of Justinian, only discovered recently, and the two churches of Santa Sophia, which have been converted into mosques. The grand church of Santa Sophia, close to the Seraglio, is no longer the most magnificent edifice in the universe, as it was in the time of Justinian, for even the neighbouring mosque of Sultan Ahmed far exceeds it in beauty and elegance. It is a clumsy building, supported by buttresses added at various times to keep it from falling. The character of the interior has been changed by the Turks, who have introduced additional pillars, and the once bright mosaics have been covered over; but the dome never fails to strike the beholder: it is a marvel of strength and lightness.

The Seraglio, or Serai, near Garden Point, may boast of fine pavilions and shady walks, but the dark memories of crime will always cling to it. The spot from which sacks containing the bodies of living sultanas or odalisks were hurled into the dark waters of the Bosphorus is still pointed out to the traveller. Far more attractive than this ancient residence of the sultans are the marvellous structures in the Arab or Persian style which line the shores of the Bosphorus, and which impart to the suburbs of Constantinople an aspect of oriental splendour.