﻿CONSTANTINOPLE 
  TODAY 
  

  

  By 
  Solita 
  Solano 
  

  

  BYZANTIUM 
  is 
  dead. 
  New 
  Rome 
  

   is 
  dead. 
  Constantinople 
  is 
  ill. 
  

   Soon 
  this 
  one-time 
  Queen 
  City 
  of 
  

   the 
  East 
  will 
  be 
  replaced 
  by 
  a 
  modern 
  

   European 
  center 
  of 
  business 
  and 
  com- 
  

   merce, 
  functioning 
  on 
  the 
  most 
  famous 
  

   cross-roads 
  in 
  the 
  world. 
  

  

  Stamboul 
  — 
  home 
  of 
  Roman 
  emperors, 
  

   capital 
  of 
  magnificent 
  sultans, 
  scene 
  of 
  

   fabulous 
  tales 
  which 
  every 
  one 
  has 
  read 
  — 
  

   is 
  now 
  falling 
  into 
  decay 
  upon 
  its 
  seven 
  

   hills. 
  Everything 
  has 
  an 
  air 
  of 
  being 
  

   second-rate 
  and 
  outworn. 
  Acres 
  laid 
  

   bare 
  by 
  careless 
  fires 
  constitute 
  one- 
  

   fourth 
  of 
  the 
  city's 
  area, 
  and 
  the 
  remain- 
  

   der 
  is 
  for 
  the 
  most 
  part 
  covered 
  by 
  

   unpainted, 
  weather-stained 
  houses 
  with 
  

   rotting 
  window 
  lattices 
  above 
  and 
  small, 
  

   dirty 
  shops 
  beneath. 
  Mosques 
  and 
  tombs 
  

   are 
  dusty 
  and 
  neglected. 
  

  

  Yet, 
  in 
  spite 
  of 
  all 
  this, 
  Stamboul 
  re- 
  

   tains 
  its 
  magic 
  of 
  a 
  uniquely 
  situated 
  city, 
  

   and 
  from 
  afar 
  has 
  still 
  a 
  beauty 
  that 
  is 
  

   incomparable. 
  It 
  is 
  seen 
  at 
  its 
  best 
  in 
  

   that 
  famous 
  approach 
  from 
  the 
  sea 
  to 
  the 
  

   Golden 
  Horn, 
  in 
  which 
  is 
  reflected, 
  as 
  in 
  

   a 
  bright 
  mirror, 
  the 
  city 
  of 
  Constantine, 
  

   of 
  Justinian 
  and 
  Theodora, 
  of 
  Theodosius 
  

   and 
  Mohammed 
  II, 
  with 
  an 
  effect 
  so 
  un- 
  

   familiarly 
  lovely 
  that 
  it 
  is 
  like 
  an 
  artist's 
  

   dream 
  in 
  which 
  minarets 
  and 
  great 
  domes 
  

   seem 
  to 
  float 
  above 
  the 
  mist. 
  

  

  Then, 
  at 
  close 
  range, 
  the 
  picture 
  fades 
  

   and 
  one 
  becomes 
  suddenly 
  disenchanted, 
  

   as 
  if 
  a 
  once 
  beautiful 
  woman 
  had 
  dropped 
  

   her 
  veil 
  and 
  revealed 
  the 
  ravages 
  of 
  time. 
  

  

  MODERNITY 
  HAS 
  LEFT 
  ITS 
  MARK 
  EVERY- 
  

   WHERE 
  

  

  Few 
  places 
  in 
  the 
  world 
  have 
  exercised 
  

   such 
  a 
  power 
  of 
  attraction 
  for 
  travelers 
  as 
  

   Constantinople, 
  or 
  have 
  had 
  such 
  wide- 
  

   spread 
  reputation 
  for 
  being 
  picturesque. 
  

  

  The 
  severe, 
  classic 
  art 
  of 
  Athens 
  is 
  not 
  

   found 
  here 
  ; 
  nor 
  the 
  dignity 
  of 
  Rome 
  ; 
  

   nor 
  the 
  exciting, 
  sullen 
  spirit 
  that 
  perme- 
  

   ates 
  Peking. 
  It 
  is 
  not 
  gay 
  like 
  Paris, 
  nor 
  

   learned 
  like 
  Berlin. 
  An 
  archeologist 
  

   would 
  be 
  better 
  pleased 
  with 
  Egypt. 
  But 
  

   this 
  is 
  the 
  place 
  before 
  which 
  Gautief, 
  

   Byron, 
  Loti, 
  De 
  Amicis, 
  and 
  Lamartine 
  

   wept 
  and 
  swooned 
  with 
  delight 
  before 
  

  

  they 
  sat 
  down 
  to 
  fill 
  books 
  with 
  ecstatic 
  

   praises. 
  

  

  Practical 
  modernity 
  has 
  left 
  its 
  mark 
  

   everywhere, 
  especially 
  since 
  the 
  city's 
  

   occupation 
  by 
  the 
  Allies, 
  and 
  soon 
  the 
  

   pictorial 
  appeal 
  that 
  now 
  remains 
  will 
  be 
  

   gone 
  forever. 
  It 
  will 
  be 
  a 
  clean, 
  decent, 
  

   civilized 
  city 
  — 
  but 
  no 
  longer 
  Constanti- 
  

   nople. 
  

  

  Already 
  there 
  are 
  on 
  all 
  sides 
  the 
  

   changes 
  due 
  to 
  western 
  influence 
  — 
  trams, 
  

   electric 
  lights, 
  telephones, 
  unveiled 
  women, 
  

   and 
  a 
  new, 
  safe 
  bridge. 
  Gone 
  are 
  the 
  

   brilliantly 
  colored 
  costumes, 
  the 
  groups 
  

   of 
  faceless 
  women 
  guarded 
  by 
  eunuchs, 
  

   the 
  pariah 
  street 
  dogs, 
  the 
  Sultan's 
  pom- 
  

   pous 
  ceremonies, 
  the 
  harems, 
  the 
  life 
  in 
  

   the 
  palaces 
  along 
  the 
  Bosporus. 
  And, 
  al- 
  

   though 
  the 
  foreign 
  ministers 
  of 
  Great 
  

   Britain, 
  France, 
  and 
  Italy, 
  at 
  a 
  conference 
  

   in 
  Paris 
  in 
  March, 
  agreed 
  to 
  restore 
  the 
  

   Turks 
  to 
  full 
  authority 
  in 
  their 
  capital, 
  it 
  

   is 
  safe 
  to 
  assume 
  that 
  the 
  magnificent 
  mis- 
  

   rule 
  of 
  the 
  Sultans 
  has 
  come 
  to 
  an 
  end. 
  

  

  A 
  CITY 
  OF 
  THREE 
  SEPARATE 
  PARTS 
  

  

  Constantinople's 
  geographical 
  position 
  

   has 
  made 
  her 
  sanguinary 
  history, 
  for 
  she 
  

   controls 
  a 
  highroad 
  of 
  commerce 
  between 
  

   Asia 
  and 
  Europe, 
  and 
  Nature 
  herself 
  

   planned 
  the 
  ports. 
  The 
  city 
  is 
  divided 
  

   into 
  three 
  separated 
  quarters. 
  Stamboul 
  

   and 
  Pera-Galata 
  lie 
  on 
  the 
  European 
  side, 
  

   the 
  Golden 
  Horn 
  between 
  them, 
  and 
  

   Scutari 
  squats 
  on 
  the 
  Asiatic 
  side, 
  across 
  

   the 
  Bosporus. 
  Like 
  outstretched 
  arms, 
  

   the 
  two 
  straits 
  come 
  up 
  from 
  the 
  Sea 
  of 
  

   Marmora 
  to 
  the 
  south 
  (see 
  map, 
  p. 
  650). 
  

  

  Galata 
  and 
  Pera 
  are 
  the 
  European 
  

   quarter, 
  opposite 
  Stamboul, 
  where 
  the 
  

   representatives 
  of 
  foreign 
  powers 
  have 
  

   long 
  maintained 
  their 
  embassies 
  and 
  

   homes. 
  Once 
  the 
  suburbs 
  of 
  Stamboul. 
  

   this 
  part 
  of 
  the 
  city 
  was 
  known 
  as 
  Justin- 
  

   ianapolis 
  until 
  the 
  Genoese 
  made 
  it 
  into 
  

   an 
  Italian 
  town 
  and 
  fortified 
  it 
  with 
  walls 
  

   and 
  many 
  towers, 
  one 
  of 
  which, 
  the 
  

   Galata 
  Fire 
  Tower, 
  still 
  stands, 
  a 
  lofty 
  

   lookout 
  station 
  from 
  which 
  fires 
  are 
  re- 
  

   ported 
  and 
  signals 
  flashed 
  to 
  ships 
  after 
  

   dark. 
  

  

  647 
  

  

  