Boekgegevens
Titel: First English reading book: Engelsch leesboek voor instituten, gymnasiën en hoogere burgerscholen: met Nederlandsche woordenlijst
Auteur: Herrig, Ludwig
Uitgave: Arnhem: J. Voltelen, 1869 *
Auteursrechten: Zie auteursrechten
Citeerinstructie: Bijzondere Collecties van de Universiteit van Amsterdam, UBM: IWO 513 H 21
URL: https://schoolmuseum.uba.uva.nl/bookid/LCSM_204683
Onderwerp: Taal- en letterkunde naar afzonderlijke talen: Engelse taalkunde
Trefwoord: Leesvaardigheid, Engels, Leermiddelen (vorm)
* jaar van uitgave niet op de gebruikelijke wijze verkregen, mogelijk betreft het een schatting
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•249
and fragrant flowersniells, and softened
sounds. As we glided away from that
grand old castle of the Genoese, it seemed
restored by the doubtful hght to all its
strength; the hanging woods and beetling
chffs were reflected in the star-spangled
stream; the air seemed exquisitely sensitive
to the faint fragrance and the distant song;
and it was hke the breaking of a spell
when the caique struck lightly against the
marble terrace of the Palazzo.
On the 2nd of August, I left Buyukdere,
and my caique shot rapidly along the
bright blue stream towards Constantinople;
on the eastern shore, the 'Sweet AVaters
of Asia' with the Sultan's palace, claimed
a visit: and the beautiful village of Can-
dalie may not be neglected, if it were
only in memory of Jupiter's adventure
with Europa, and the deep allegory it con-
tains.
Constantinople is a delightful summer
residence, but the climate in winter is very
disagreeable, and has none of those coun-
teracting comforts that make us warmly
welcome winter to our English hearths.
The view from the burying-ground at Pera
is one of the finest in the world; here all
the gay people of the Frank city assemble
in the evening, and wander among the
tombs with merry chat and laughter; or sit
beneath the cypress-trees, eating ice and
smoking their chibouques. We looked down
over the roofs of Tophana and Galata upon
the Golden Horn, whose appellation the
sunset seems to realize; its waters are
specked by many a caique, and reflect the
white sails of a hundred ships; beyond it
suddenly rises Stamboul itself, its richly-
mingled masses of dark foliage and white
palaces enveloping the peninsula, whose
point terminates in the Sultan's seraglio
with its gardens. The undulation of the
Seven Hills may be traced through the
city that encrust them, and occasionally
you catch glimpses of the Seven Towers,
the Palace of Belisarius, and the brave old
walls. Over all rises Mount Olympus, con-
necting earth's scenery with that of cloud-
land.
All these, of course, we visited in detail,
but they are too familiar to every reader
to claim description, The Mosque of St.
Sophia, with all its spoils, and the remains
of such magnificence as led Justinian to
exclaim, 'Thank God 1 have been enabled
to outdo Solomon!' scarce repays the trouble
of procuring a special firman, and the troop
of guards that must accompany you. A
mosque seems to me the most univiting
and prayerless-looking place of worship in
the world: it is naked, altarless tawdry,
and dreary-looking. The Sultan's palace
contains a bewildering number of apart-
ments of quaint shapes and simple orna-
ment: some are carpeted, some mirrored;
there is no furniture, except cushions, and
a very few tables, in any of them; but the
views from the windows are superb. Some
of them look out upon the Bosphorus.
The other sights of Constantinople are
so similar or inferior to those of more
thoroughly Oriental cities, that I shall not
run the risk of repeating myself by de-
scribing them. The walls of the city, pro-
tecting the peninsula on the land-side only,
are by far the most interesting remains of
ancient Constantinople. They extend from
the Sea of Marmora to the Golden Horn,
a distance of about five miles, and connect
a chain of towers through their whole ex-
tent. They are divided by a deep fosse
from another battlemented range of walls,
which is surrounded by a moat and a sort
of glacis. Mantling as they are with ivy,
their war-worn fronts deeply scarred from
the crusading and the Turkish battering-
engines, they still present a most imposing
appearance. Ruin has only made them
reverend, and left them all their lofty look.
The road along their base was profoundly
silent; on the left lay an extensive ceme-
tery, where the cypress shadowed the Mos-
lem's tomb with its sculptured turban, and
the terebinth kept watch by the Armenian's
grave. They say that this homeless people
brought this tree with them from the shores
of Lake Van, and now love to see those
who are dear to them sheltered in their
last sleep by its ancestral shade.
The cicerone affects to show the spot
where Paleologus fell as became the last
of the Caesars: it is unnecessary; for every
stone of that well-defended rampart is a
monument to his heroic name. His was no
mere animal courage — the wild brain-
fever of the moment: he saw the hour of
destruction approaching from a distance;
he withstood the work of dastardly treachery
within, as bravely as the war of the Infidel
without, the city; he had not even one
glimmering of earthly hope to light him
onward; but Honour was her own beacon,
and showed him where and how to die.
Even in his death he was identified with
the people he loved so well, and days elaps-
ed before his body was discovered, so
mangled that the eagle embroidered on
his dress alone told to whom it had be-
longed.
We entered the city by a gate through