Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor: Series One and Series Two in one Volume

In Short

This book serves as both an historical chronicle and a topographical survey of Constantinople and the ancient sites of Asia Minor. Through a series of descriptive essays paired with illustrations, it documents the transition of the Ottoman state from isolation to modernization. The author provides a dual perspective, acting as an observant outsider—a chaplain to the British Embassy—and a learned guide to the region’s classical and Byzantine heritage. Its endurance lies in its ability to freeze a specific, turbulent moment in time, preserving the customs, landscapes, and political tensions of a rapidly changing empire.

The Story

The narrative arc begins in the capital of the Ottoman Empire, Constantinople, a city long perceived as "slumbering" in its medieval traditions. The author introduces the reader to this "singular and extraordinary spectacle" of a Muslim city standing still while Europe accelerates into the industrial age. The early chapters establish the city’s complex history, detailing the deep-seated grievances between the Eastern and Western churches—a divide solidified during the Crusades and still "rankling" in the minds of the local population. From this historical foundation, the narrative moves toward the necessity of reform under the Sultans.

The central drama follows the tragic attempt to modernize the Ottoman state, primarily through the efforts of Sultan Selim III. Described as the most "amiable and enlightened" of his line, Selim seeks to introduce European military discipline—the nizam dgeddit—to counter the external threat posed by an expanding Russia. However, this progress is met with violent opposition from the Janissaries, a powerful and archaic military class who view any change as a degradation of their perfect state. This conflict leads to the dramatic deposition and eventual execution of the Sultan, highlighting the high cost of progress in an empire deeply resistant to Western interference.

As the text expands beyond the walls of the capital, the focus shifts to the scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor and the provinces. The reader is taken on a journey through the "wild and romantic" Balkan passes, where Roman ruins stand as ghosts of a lost hegemony, now guarded by soldiers who occupy the space but never think to repair the crumbling gates. The narrative tone remains observational, documenting everything from the intricate, perfume-soaked trade of the bazaars to the somber, hurried nature of Turkish funeral processions.

The closing arc addresses the decline of Ottoman authority in the borderlands. It recounts the heart-wrenching displacement of the people of Parga, who, caught in the geopolitical maneuvering between Ali Pasha and the British, are forced to abandon their ancestral home. The citizens, in a final act of defiance and mourning, disinter their ancestors’ bones to prevent them from falling into the hands of their enemies. This conclusion serves as a poignant distillation of the book’s broader theme: that as the world modernizes and borders shift, the old ways, the ancient loyalties, and the very ground of history are being perpetually uprooted.

How It Unfolds

The Ottoman paradox. The author begins by contrasting the static nature of Asiatic Turkey with the sudden, forced movements of reform in the capital, framing the city as a medieval holdout in a modernizing world.

Historical fissures. The narrative digs into the ancient, bitter religious tensions between East and West, explaining how historical betrayals by Latin allies created an enduring, mutual suspicion that defined the character of Constantinople for centuries.

The struggle for reform. The focus turns to the tragic reign of Selim III, documenting his failed attempts to introduce military order and the inevitable, violent backlash from the traditionalist Janissaries that leads to his downfall.

Provincial journeys. The perspective shifts to the wider landscape of Asia Minor, exploring the ruins of ancient cities and the desolate beauty of the mountain passes, where Roman brickwork still guards against long-vanished threats.

The cost of displacement. The final sections focus on the human impact of these sweeping imperial changes, specifically the forced evacuation of Parga, where history, memory, and physical remains are abandoned to the tides of political necessity.

The People

• Selim III: The central, tragic figure of the work. As a reformer, he represents the impossible ambition of marrying Oriental tradition with European discipline. His desire to enlighten his subjects is ultimately thwarted by his own military caste, and his story illustrates the danger of moving too quickly in a society built on ancient, rigid foundations.
• Mustapha Bairactar: An influential ally to the reformist cause. He represents the potential for internal political evolution; his loyalty to Selim highlights that the empire’s resistance to change was not universal, but rather a clash between competing visions of how to preserve the state.
• Lorenzo the Hakim Bashi: An Austrian physician whose mysterious murder by the Sultan serves as a chilling example of the arbitrary, absolute power of the Ottoman court. His fate demonstrates the precarious position of Westerners and those associated with them within the city’s shifting power dynamics.
• Kiz-Achmet: A celebrated storyteller who serves as the "Matthews of Constantinople." Through his performances in coffee-houses, he acts as the collective memory of the populace, caricaturing different nations and sects to provide a satirical, living account of the multicultural life within the empire.
• The Janissaries: While not a single person, they function as an antagonist, a collective force of "inveterate ignorance" and "intractable" pride that paralyzed the empire’s progress, fearing that any adaptation to the modern world would destroy the perfection of their traditional order.

In Its Own Voice

The first preserves its character unchanged—men and things still display the permanency of Oriental usages; and they are now as they have been, and will probably continue to be, for an indefinite period.

(The author introduces the fundamental difference between the static nature of the East and the evolving landscape of Europe.)

The only hurry in which he is ever seen, is when going to his grave.

(The author describes the Turkish belief that the body remains sentient after death, necessitating an uncharacteristic haste in burial rites.)

When the English found them in their church, disinterring the bodies of their ancestors, and burning their bones, that thus they might not be left to the sacrilegious insults of their enemies.

(The author depicts the desperate, mournful evacuation of the people of Parga as they flee the encroaching power of Ali Pasha.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this work explores the tension between historical continuity and the inevitable necessity of change. It asks whether an empire can survive by clinging to the "slumbering stupidity" of its past when the rest of the world is advancing. The book is deeply concerned with the physical traces of history—aqueducts, theater ruins, and tombs—and what happens to these monuments when the civilizations that built them vanish or decline. Underlying the descriptions is a meditation on the fragility of power; the author consistently observes how the Turks, while occupying the spaces of the Greeks and Romans, rarely innovate, choosing instead to inhabit the ghosts of their predecessors until those too fade away.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in nineteenth-century travel literature, architectural history, or the geopolitical origins of the modern Middle East will find this a deeply rewarding, if demanding, companion. It is a prose style typical of its time—dense, erudite, and occasionally prone to the sweeping, Eurocentric generalizations of a British official stationed at the Sublime Porte. Readers should be prepared for its lengthy historical asides and the author’s tendency to view Ottoman culture through the lens of a Victorian observer who is simultaneously fascinated and baffled by what he encounters.

However, the reward is an incredibly vivid, tactile immersion in a lost world. You can almost smell the attar of roses in the bazaars and feel the mountain air of the Balkan passes. The book’s greatest strength is its refusal to look away from the darker, more brutal aspects of the empire—the political executions, the sudden fires, and the forced displacements—which grounds its romantic descriptions in an honest, often haunting, reality. It stays with you because it captures the exact moment the "old world" began to break, leaving behind a portrait of a city and a culture that would be irrevocably altered by the century that followed.