Istanbul_ The Collected Traveler_ An Inspired Companion Guide - Barrie Kerper [103]
The walls and ceiling of the Hall of the Divan glittered with gold and gems, and the floor was paved with gold, a decorative touch that never failed to stun Western visitors. The Sultan did not appear in this room, but there was (and still is) a latticed bay window high up in its wall which was known as the Eye of the Sultan. “The King’s private awful window,” it was called. No one in the room below could tell whether His Majesty were there or not.
Sitting on a velvet couch, the ambassador was served pilau, about fifty different and rather monotonous dishes involving mutton or poultry, baklava, and rose-water sherbet, which, if it were summer, was cooled with ice brought by camel caravan from the Asiatic Mount Olympus, two hundred miles to the south. If the Turks wanted to be especially cordial, a brazier filled with burning aloe wood was passed under the ambassador’s chin so that he could have the pleasure of saturating his beard with its incense.
Meanwhile the presents brought by the ambassador from his sovereign were unpacked and paraded around the Court of the Divan for everyone to take stock of. The Venetians always made sure to tuck in, among the glass and cut velvet, some Parmesan cheeses, for cheese was not made in Turkey. Louis XV sent mirrors for the harem. Queen Elizabeth sent Murad III an organ; and to his favorite, Safiyeh, a Venetian woman who had been captured by Turkish pirates, she sent a small picture of herself in a diamond frame, enough cloth of gold for ten dresses, a case of crystal bottles, and some musk. Safiyeh wrote in a thank-you note, “the singular love which we have conceived one toward the other is like to a garden of pleasant birds,” and sent Elizabeth some bloomers.
After dining with the viziers, the ambassador and the ranking gentlemen of his party were bundled into robes of silver or gold brocade trimmed with sable, in order to make them presentable enough for the royal eye, and were at last ushered into the audience chamber. This room, called the Throne Room Without (there being a Throne Room Within), stands just inside the Third Gate, or Gate of Happiness. (Gates, since ancient times in the Orient, have been associated with government and the dispensing of justice, which is why the throne room was placed here and why the Ottoman capital city was known as the Sublime Porte, taking this name from that of the main gate of the Seraglio.) The Throne Room Without was even more glittering than the Hall of the Divan, with ropes of pearls dangling from the ceiling and jeweled throne coverings varying in splendor according to the importance of the ambassador being received. An ambassador of Charles II of England, who was probably considered worth a good show, found the Sultan sitting on cloth of gold sewn with diamonds, with his feet, in little white leather shoes soft-soled like a baby’s, planted on a green satin rug that was thickly barnacled with gold, pearls, and turquoises. Two pashas led the ambassador forward, pushed his head down until it almost touched the ground, and permitted him to kiss the hem of the Grand Seigneur’s brocade sleeve. In response to this His Majesty merely stared at the wall, as he never took any notice of a Christian. If he wished to communicate with him he would do so through a vizier, who would refer to the ambassador’s sovereign as “my brother” in order to make clear the Sultan’s exalted position among rulers. The audience concluded, the visitors were attended back to their embassy by a great many janissaries and whirling dervishes, all of whom required tips.
The Throne Room Without was as far into the Seraglio