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Istanbul, 1585.
The Golden Horn glittered beneath a late summer sun as treasures unloaded from galleys recently arrived from Egypt made their way through the streets.
Along the route from the harbor to the gates of Topkapi Palace, crowds pressed three and four deep, straining for a glimpse of the procession. Word had spread of the wonders brought from Cairo, and the people gasped.
Horses, groomed and gleaming. Chests of gold and precious gems. Bolts of fine fabrics.
Then came an elephant. It lumbered past on padded feet, a young boy perched high upon an embroidered cloth thrown over its back. Behind it plodded a giraffe, led on a long leather tether, its neck rising high above the heads of the crowd, its large dark eyes peering over the rooftops.
And wrapped and cushioned against the jolt of the cobbled road came pieces of something unexpected.
At the palace gates, the procession slowed. The elephant was led into the courtyard, followed by the giraffe, their very presence enough to astonish the sultan, his ministers and assembled courtiers. But the most extraordinary gift had yet to be revealed.
Sultan Murad III ruled an empire at the height of its power and splendor. His dominions stretched across three continents, from the Hungarian frontier to the Arabian sands, from the shores of North Africa to the mountains of the Caucasus. Now, before him, came a most extravagant gift from the richest province of his empire.
As craftsmen knelt before the sultan, they carefully unwrapped the pieces and fitted them together. Slowly, the mystery was revealed.
A throne. A golden throne. One worthy of the Ottoman sultan.
The throne was the gift of Ibrahim Pasha, a statesman and military commander of either Bosnian or Croat descent who had risen through the Devshirme system to be appointed Governor of Egypt between 1583 and 1585.
He would marry Ayse Sultan, the daughter of Murad III, and later rise still higher, becoming Grand Vizier under Murad’s successor, Sultan Mehmed III.
He was a man who understood the theater of power and the importance of spectacle. Having been recalled to Istanbul, he returned determined to reaffirm his loyalty to the sultan.
When the wrappings were removed and the pieces assembled, Ibrahim Pasha presented Sultan Murad III with something far more enduring than the elephant and giraffe that had so entranced the Ottoman Court.
He presented him with a throne sheathed in gold, lavishly set with hundreds of precious stones, its brilliance intended to reflect the wealth and power of the sultan.
It was a remarkable work of craftsmanship and would become one of the most recognizable treasures of the Ottoman Imperial Treasury.
Two craftsmen are traditionally thought to have been commissioned by Ibrahim Pasha to design and create the Golden Throne: Dervis Bey, an Egyptian artist, and Ibrahim Bey, a goldsmith.
Beneath its splendor, the throne is surprisingly practical. Its wooden structure is made of walnut, covered with sheets of gold. Its 10 sections could be dismantled and reassembled, allowing the throne to be moved as the ceremonies of the Imperial Court required.
The contemporary Ottoman chronicler Selâniki Mustafa Efendi described the gift as the Taht-i Zumrudin, or Emerald Throne.
His account speaks of 80,000 miskals (equivalent to 4.25 grams today) of gold and an astonishing array of gemstones—emeralds, rubies, turquoise and zeberceds. Some, he wrote, were as large as pigeons’ eggs.
Yet the throne preserved in Topkapi Palace appears somewhat different.
Set into its gold sheathing are 954 green stones, traditionally identified as zeberced, more commonly known as peridot. The emeralds, rubies and turquoise described by Selâniki are not present on the throne we see today. So what became of them?
There is no definitive answer. Over the centuries, the throne may have been repaired, altered or reconfigured. The original stones could have been removed and reset in jewellery or other objects, or perhaps sold to replenish the Imperial Treasury.
Another possibility is that the throne displayed at Topkapi Palace is not the throne presented to Sultan Murad III at all, but a later throne with the same name, used for the same ceremonial role.
We may never know.
Over time, the gift from the governor of Egypt acquired another name: the Bayram Throne, after the Muslim festivals during which successive sultans used it to receive the congratulations and homage of their Court before the Gate of Felicity at Topkapi Palace.
It was also used for the accession ceremony of a new sultan. Before the Gate of Felicity, the newly girded ruler formally received the allegiance of members of the Ottoman dynasty and senior dignitaries of the empire.
For centuries, the throne was assembled and dismantled, moved from one ceremonial setting to another, right up to the last years of the Ottoman Sultanate.
My grandmother remembered watching her grandfather, Sultan Mehmed V Resad, through the lattice windows of the corridor above the Ceremonial Hall at the Dolmabahce Palace, seated on the Golden Throne as he gave an audience.
My grandfather remembered attending the ceremony of allegiance to Sultan Mehmed VI Vahideddin in July 1918, when the same throne was once again used.
It is remarkable that the throne presented to an Ottoman ruler at the height of the empire’s power was still serving the same rituals as the sultanate approached its end.
Today, Sultan Murad III’s Golden Throne, or Bayram Throne, is preserved in the Imperial Treasury at Topkapi Palace. Visitors see the gold-covered throne, studded with green stones and softened by a faded red velvet cushion, enclosed within a large display case.
It sits empty now.
It no longer presides over Bayram ceremonies or witnesses the accession of a new sultan. It has survived the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the abolition of the sultanate. Its gold remains undimmed. The peridots catch the electric light where once they caught the sun in the palace courtyard.
The sultan is gone. The empire is gone. Imperial pageantry is over. Yet Sultan Murad III’s Golden Throne remains.
Until we meet again in the next Sultan’s Salon …
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