CONSTANTINOPLE. 
1 5 
rounded by minors. The other ornaments display that strange 
mixture of magnificence and wretchedness, which character¬ 
ize ail the state chambers of Tin lush grandees. Leaving the 
assembly room, by the same door through which we entered, 
and continuing along the passage as before, which runs parallel 
to the sea shore, we at length reached, what might be termed 
the sanctum sanctorum of this paphian temple, the baths of 
the sultan mother and the four principal sultanas. These are 
small, but very elegant, constructed of white marble, and 
lighted by ground glass above. At the upper end is a raised 
sudatory and bath for the sultan mother, concealed by lattice 
work from the rest of the apartment Fountains play constantly 
into the floor of this bath, from all its sides; and every‘degree 
of refilled luxury has been added to the work, winch a people, 
of all others best versed in the ceremonies of the bath, have 
been capable of inventing or requiring. 
Leaving the bath, and returning along the passage by which 
we came, we entered what is called the chamber of repose* 
Nothing need be said of it- except that it commands the finest 
view any where afforded from this point of the seraglio. It 
forms a part of the building well known to strangers, from the 
circumstance of its being supported, toward the sea, by twelve 
columns of that beautiful and rare breccia, the vivkle Lacedie-^ 
monium of Pliny, called by Italians ll verde antieo. These 
columns are of the finest quality ever seen; and each of them 
consists of one entire stone. The two interior pillars are of 
green Egyptian breccia, more beautilki than any specimen 
of the kind existing. 
We now proceeded to that pari of the eh arena which looks 
into the seraglio garden, and entered a large apartment, called 
chalvedyiettzy , or, as the French would express it, sallc de 
promenade . Here the other ladies of the char eh) entertain 
themselves, by hearing and seeing comedies, farcical representa¬ 
tions, dances, and music. We found it io the state of an old 
lumber room. Large dusty pier glasses, in heavy gilded 
frames, neglected and broken, stood, like the Vicar of Wake¬ 
field’s family picture, leaning against the wall, the whole 
length of one side of the room. Old furniture; shabby bureaus 
of the worst English work, made of oak, walnut, or mahogany ; 
inlaid broken cabinets; scattered fragments of chandeliers; 
scraps of paper, silk rags, and empty confectionary boxes ; 
were the only objects in this part of the palace* 
