Like most of the ancient churches we are about to visit during the course of our journey south, Hagia Sophia is a building of small dimensions according to modern ideas. The interior has a length of not more than 69 feet from the inner door to the head of the apse, with a breadth, excluding the side porches, of 36 feet. A building of this size is admirably adapted to the art of the painter in fresco, while his work derives the greatest possible advantage from the features of the design. The lofty vaulted spaces of the dome and apse were once resplendent with bright effects; and on the walls were depicted the richly-apparelled figures of the princes of the Comnenian line. From the partial glimpses of the paintings obtained by various travellers, it is possible to realise, at least in some measure, the former splendour of the scene. At the entrance above the door was seen the image of Alexius, first emperor of Trebizond, surrounded by his court, like Justinian at Ravenna; in his hands the golden globe of empire, and on his forehead a white diadem. On the right of the same door stood the first Manuel (r. A.D. 1238–63), the prince who was known as “the great captain,” and who, according to the description at the side of the figure, was the founder of this monastery. The emperor was without crown, but his forehead was encircled by a cinglet with a double row of pearls. The front of the royal robe was adorned on either side by a band of large circular medallions, bearing the device of the single-headed eagle; a similar ornament, engraved with the equestrian figure of St. Eugenius, hung upon the royal breast. Many of the successors of these two princes were without doubt represented on the remaining spaces of the walls; while the portraits included those of saints and evangelists, all attired in costliest style. The apse displayed a group of three figures, of whom the central one appears to have designated St. Paul; on his right hand St. James and on his left St. John were identified by written scrolls. From the inner sides of the arches, as from the vault of heaven, the faces of angels looked down. The floor was paved by a rich marqueterie of marbles; you admired in particular a design of geometrical character in which the tracing was done in black marble on a ground of vivid reds and pinks and greens.
But the impression which we should take away from this elaborate interior would be one of sadness, perhaps of pain. The art, the life, here represented, was an art in shackles, an expiring phase of life. The peculiar wooden quality of these expressionless faces may be gauged by the examples which have been preserved for us by the care of Texier. Strict conventions had taken the place of realities alike in life and in art; and how sad after the unsurpassed beauty of Hellenic vigour are the gaudy get-up and childish love of baubles which mark the declining years of the Greek world! Vanished, or hidden from sight behind the inexorable whitewash, lies the vivid evidence of that departed age; repugnant alike to the spirit and to the mission of Mohammedanism, this rich collection of Christian images must, from the first, have courted effacement. At the time of our visit the walls had been recently limed over to purify the edifice after the service of State prison to which, during the prevalence of cholera in the town, it had been temporarily assigned. In the upper storey of the campanile, a later work of the fifteenth century, the frescos are still exposed; but it is evident that they can never have possessed much importance. The baptistery, which is said to have been covered with such paintings, has been removed many years ago. It stood near the edge of the terrace, on the north.
Before retracing our steps towards the city, it is worth while to extend the excursion to the neighbouring ruin of Mevla Khaneh (House of gods, No. 23), if only for the sake of a ramble through the pleasant country lanes and a view over the peaceful landscape of the bay. Against the background of the line of heights, at a distance from Hagia Sophia of about three-quarters of a mile, the scanty remains of a heathen temple emerge from a leafy brake which fills a recess of the hillside. Portions of a tower and doorway, the lower parts of two walls have escaped the ravages of time. Small square niches are seen in the walls at close intervals, said to have contained the statues of the gods. From the floor of the temple rise tall elm trees, festooned with wild vine; and an ancient laurel tree bends over the ivy-grown masonry. Rarely do people pass this way; and, on the occasion of our visit, we were the unwilling authors of a rather serious offence. Among the lanes below the ruin we surprised a young woman, combing her long hair on the margin of a stream from which she had just stepped out.
One may return to Trebizond by the old road towards Platana, which has been replaced by a new chaussée nearer the shore. From the Kavak Meidan, with its one fine plane tree, we proceed through the quarter of Sotke towards the gate of the same name in the wall of the lower fortress. The riparian quarters on the east of the city are well worthy of a visit; they may be reached either by crossing the crowded spaces of the fortified enclosure, or by making the more pleasant circuit by the side of the sea. Choosing the second alternative, we soon arrive at the angle of the wall, and are treading the broad strip of sand. All the elements of the picturesque are present in the varied scene—the line of walls, the massive tower just on the east of the gate of Molos, the broad-prowed ships drawn up on the shore, the groups of people in motley attire. In the autumn large quantities of nuts are spread out on the sand, awaiting shipment to France. The tower is flanked on the west by the parapet of a modern battery, while on the east it is adjoined by the vault through which the stream issues which comes from the western ravine. In front of the vault there is a little bridge. The submerged remains of a semicircular mole—a work of the old Greek times—are indicated by a line of surf in the sea. It is evident that the entrance to this harbour was on the east. On that side too there is a tower, projecting into the waves with the form of a wedge, and still joined to the north-eastern angle of the fortress by the substructures of a massive wall.
It is through an opening in that wall that we pass from the life of the sea-shore into the more intense and throbbing life of the bazar. In old times one of the great gates gave issue from the lower fortress to the important riparian quarters on the east. This gate, the bazar gate or gate of Mumkhaneh (candle factories), has been removed to give space to a broad street. The stream from the eastern ravine, which passes outside the walls, is taken by a tunnel through this crowded quarter. The bazars adjoin the fortress; they are well stocked and extensive. The more one walks in Trebizond, the more one is impressed by the shyness of the women; nowhere in the East have I seen them more ashamed to show the face. Nowhere does one realise more keenly the loss of colour and gaiety which this muffling and veiling of women entails. A fine example of an old Italian magazine may be seen in this neighbourhood; it is called the Bezestan (repository of stuffs, No. 16). Where the bazar is at its busiest, a massive square building of stone and brick rises above the lines of booths with their shadowed recesses. It is entered by four doors, of wood plated with iron, one on each side. In the centre is a well; the roof rested on four piers and sprang from vaultings at each angle of the square. The piers and vaultings still remain, but the roof is gone. The place is occupied by sellers of quilts, or coverlets stuffed with cotton, which take the place of blankets in the East.
South of this building, beyond the large mosque of the quarter, which is without architectural interest, are situated the two Greek churches of Aivasil and Aiana, the first almost on the fringe of the bazars. Aivasil (No. 14) has been rebuilt, or rather the site of the old church has been covered by a modern and tasteless erection. But a long stone, part of a frieze, containing an inscription of Justinian, which belonged to the earlier edifice, is still preserved as an historical relic in the body of the church. Aiana (No. 13), its close neighbour, is, on the other hand, quite intact, and remains a most interesting example of the beginnings of Christian architecture. A small and unpretentious building of stone, not too evenly put together, with the arches over the little windows constructed of brick, it would almost escape notice were it not for a large bas-relief in marble which is inserted into the wall over the door on the south. Although the stone is cracked and the sculpture has suffered mutilation, one can recognise that there is represented a colossal seated figure, with a smaller figure, holding a shield, at her feet. The interior is built of brick, and consists of a nave and two aisles, the principal apse being flanked by two side apses.[3] But there is no dome; and the scanty light which falls on the withered frescos comes from nine little windows in the walls. Each aisle has two arches, the more easterly pair resting on piers, and the more westerly on marble pillars with Ionic capitals. One remarks the narrowness of the apse, in which is placed a primitive altar, resembling those in the oldest Armenian churches. It consists of a horizontal slab resting on a circular stone, and on the side of the slab is a Greek inscription. Several of the frescos remain with which the walls were once covered, the building being still used as a church. Besides Biblical subjects, one observes several portraits upon the wall on the west. The greater portion of the space is filled with the pictures of saints and monks; but on the north side there is represented a colossal figure, of which the head has unfortunately been effaced. The figure is attired in a purple robe, with bands of gold embroidered in black, the same costume as that in which the Emperor Alexius III. is depicted in the Bull at Sumelas. He holds a circular ornament or emblem in his left hand. An inscription, partially effaced, is seen on the wall below the figure.[4] Such is this relic of the early city, with its spoils of still earlier temples, bridging the periods of the old worship and the new.
TREBIZOND AND SURROUNDINGS, drawn out on the spot in 1898.
Returning to the commercial quarter from the narrow alleys which surround this building, we pass an old house which is an example of a style of architecture now rapidly being replaced by the modern villa. The exterior, with its projecting upper storey and semicircular, roofed balcony, where the inmates would enjoy the freshness of the afternoon, produces an impression at once of somewhat costly solidity and of picturesque charm. The rooms are panelled in wood, both walls and ceilings; and screens of open woodwork, placed before the windows, preserve the privacy of the life within. In the little niches and in the details of the ornamentation the spirit is that of Persian art.
The magazines of the merchants are situated along the shore between the fortified city and the point of Güzel Serai. Proceeding eastwards, we need scarcely stop to visit the Greek cathedral (No. 12), a large modern building of extraordinary ugliness on the margin of the sea. On the south side of this pretentious church we are shown the tomb of the last of the Georgian kings. A road leads upwards through the crowded Christian quarter, Frank Mahalla, past the wall and tower of Güzel Serai (No. 10). These buildings date, I believe, from a comparatively recent period; but they occupy the site of the famous fortress of Leontocastron, long in dispute between the Comnenian emperor and the Genoese. The companion fort of Daphnus, another Genoese possession, probably stood in the bay on the west, where the quarter of Dia Funda, an Italian corruption of the Greek name, faces the modern anchorage. The walls of Güzel Serai overlook a park of artillery, drawn up on a grassy platform at the point.