Topkapi Palace in Istanbul: Anatomy of an Empire

Last visit : June 2025

Visit duration : 4 hours

My rating : 8/10

The Heart of the Empire: Between Politics and Sacredness

No place in Istanbul better embodies the arc of Ottoman power than Topkapi Palace — a citadel suspended between the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn, conceived not as a single building, but as an architectural metaphor for imperial power. Built by order of Mehmet II the Conqueror after the capture of Constantinople (1453), Topkapi became not only the residence of the sultans, but also the administrative, religious, and ceremonial hub of the Ottoman Empire for nearly four centuries.

Its foundation marked the birth of a new order: the old Byzantine palace of Blachernae, a symbol of a bygone power, was abandoned; in its place stood a palace that embodied the synthesis of three worlds—Turkish nomadic tradition, Persian heritage, and Byzantine ceremonial—giving rise to the aesthetic of domination that permeated the entire Ottoman culture.

Topkapi Palace in Istanbul: A City within a City

Unlike European Renaissance palaces, Topkapi is not a single monumental body, but a diffuse organism : a series of courtyards, pavilions and gardens that extend over 700,000 square metres, enclosed by a wall that separates the world of power from the chaos of the city.

1. The First Courtyard ( Alay Meydanı , or "Parade Courtyard") served as a symbolic filter between the people and the authorities. Delegations and janissaries would stop here, and the Church of Saint Irene, transformed into an arsenal and ceremonial hall, stood here.

2. The Second Courtyard, dominated by the Gate of Felicity, led to the political heart of the palace. It contained the Divan Hall —where the viziers discussed affairs of state—and the imperial kitchens, among the largest in the Islamic world, famous for their 20,000 Chinese porcelain plates and the constant smell of amber and cinnamon that still permeates the stonework today.

3. The Third Courtyard, accessible only to the sultan's intimates, represented the space of political sacredness: here was located the Audience Hall, where the sultan received ambassadors and dignitaries, and the Library of Ahmed III, a treasure chest of illuminated manuscripts and Koranic calligraphy.

4. Finally, the Fourth Courtyard — a garden suspended above the sea — was the sultan's private area, with resting pavilions, flower-filled terraces and the magnificent Bagdad Chamber, decorated with blue and gold İznik tiles, a masterpiece of 17th-century Ottoman art.

   
   

The Seraglio and the Shadows of the Harem

Behind the legend of perfumes and veils, the Harem was not a place of frivolity, but a refined political machine. The concubines, mistresses, and valide sultanas formed a hierarchical microcosm governed by rigid rules. At the top was the Valide Sultan, the sovereign's mother, an often extremely powerful figure: from Hürrem (Roxelana), wife of Suleiman the Magnificent, to Kösem Sultan, who effectively governed the Empire during the "Sultanate of Women."

The Harem's apartments—over 300 rooms—tell a story of control, ascendancy, and intrigue. Hundreds of women, educated in the arts and languages, lived here, yet isolated from the world. The complex's architecture—narrow corridors, concentric courtyards, screened windows—translates into stone the tension between visibility and seclusion, beauty and power.

The relics and the myth of the caliphate

Since the 16th century, when Selim I conquered Egypt and brought the title of Caliph to Istanbul, Topkapi Palace also became a sanctuary for the Islamic world. The Hall of Sacred Relics still houses the Prophet Muhammad's sword, his cloak , autographed letters, and locks of his beard. Every year during Ramadan, these objects were displayed to the people as a symbol of the union between political authority and religious legitimacy. Some relics might raise eyebrows in more skeptical visitors, such as the Prophet Moses' staff, David's sword, or Muhammad's footprint in stone, but within the sacred context of the building, they nevertheless retain their own charm.

The atmosphere of the room—where for centuries a muezzin has continuously recited verses from the Koran—retains an aura of devotion that no modern museum can reproduce.

The collections: an art of luxury and time

The Imperial Treasury at Topkapi brings together some of the most extraordinary objects of Islamic and Oriental art: from the famous Topkapi Dagger (encrusted with emeralds and pearls) to the 86-carat Spoonmaker's Diamond, second only to the Hope Diamond. The collections include Persian miniatures, Ottoman calligraphy, Iznik ceramics, Anatolian carpets, and silk brocade fabrics that evoke the sumptuousness of imperial ceremonies.

Each object, more than a simple artifact, is a declaration of aesthetic power: a language that unites faith, wealth, and art in a coherent symbolic system, where even geometry becomes metaphysical. There's no doubt about one thing: the Ottoman court had no qualms about displaying pomp and opulence.

Among the countless treasures exhibited in the palace/museum, it is inevitable to mention at least two, either because of their popularity or because of their immeasurable material value.

The first is the celebrated gold and emerald dagger, the protagonist of the 1964 film starring Peter Ustinov, a masterpiece of 18th-century goldsmithing and a tangible testament to Ottoman magnificence. Forged in 1747 for Sultan Mahmud I, the dagger was intended to be sent as a diplomatic gift to Nadir Shah of Persia. However, the shah's sudden death meant that the gift never left Istanbul, transforming it from an instrument of political alliance into a relic of imperial glory.

The dagger, now on display in the Imperial Treasury of the palace, is crafted of solid gold and decorated with three enormous Colombian emeralds set into the hilt, complemented by enamels, diamonds, and arabesques chiseled with almost miniature finesse. Concealed on the inside of the hilt is a period mechanical watch, a symbol of the meeting of Eastern luxury and Western ingenuity. The scabbard, lined with gold and enamel, features raised floral motifs and a fourth gemstone set in the center, a seal of supreme power.

But beyond its material value, the Topkapi Dagger represents a political manifesto: beauty here becomes a form of domination, a diplomatic language that replaces war with magnificence. It reflects the entire Ottoman universe—its opulence, its ceremonies, its belief in art as a projection of divine power. Like the palace domes and the majolica tiles of İznik, the dagger is not just an object: it is an idea of the world , shining and terrible, forged in the precious metal of imperial ambition.

The second amazing treasure can only be the so-called Spoonmaker's Diamond: an 86-carat jewel that, more than any other gem, embodies the very myth of Ottoman opulence. Its history is shrouded in legend: according to tradition, a humble spoon seller found a glittering stone in the mud and, unaware of its value, mistook it for three wooden spoons at the Istanbul market. From that anecdote came the diamond's ironic and melancholic name.

More reliable sources date it back to the 17th century, perhaps coming from India or brought to Istanbul after belonging to the vizier Ali Pasha of Ioannina, the bloodthirsty rebel governor executed by Mahmud II in 1822. Whatever its origin, the diamond entered the imperial collections as an emblem of the wealth and dynastic continuity of the Ottoman throne.

The stone, oval in shape and with an extraordinarily clear fire, is set in a gold mount surrounded by 49 smaller diamonds, which enhance its brilliance in a dazzlingly theatrical effect. Displayed today in a secluded and guarded case, the diamond emanates an almost metaphysical light, more akin to that of a celestial body than a terrestrial object.

But beyond these two treasures, in the literal sense, Topkapi Palace houses an endless series of precious copies of the Koran, precious bindings, calligraphic manuscripts, ceremonial weapons, jewels, inlaid furniture, carpets, lecterns, chessboards, and furnishings that testify to the wealth of the Ottoman court.

Decay and metamorphosis

With the rise of Dolmabahçe in the 19th century, Topkapi became a place of memory. Its rooms slowly emptied, as if the Empire had moved into the new century, leaving behind the shadow of an era. After the abolition of the sultanate in 1922, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk transformed the palace into a museum (1924), making Topkapi the first museum of the new republican Turkey: a symbolic gesture of rupture, but also of continuity with a past grandeur.

Visiting Guide: Technical Tips and Thematic Tours

1. Opening Hours and Tickets: Topkapi Palace is (until 2025) closed on Tuesdays. A complete visit, including the Harem (separate ticket), requires at least 3 hours, but to fully appreciate its historical complexity, it is recommended to dedicate half a day. The main entrance is at the Imperial Gate (Bab-ı Hümayun), easily reached on foot from the Sultanahmet district.

2. Recommended itinerary:

• Start from the First Courtyard to perceive the monumental scale of the complex.

• Proceed to the Imperial Divan and Audience Hall, lingering over the calligraphic inscriptions proclaiming the sultan's divine justice.

• Spend at least an hour in the Harem.

• Conclude with the Treasury and the Hall of Sacred Relics.

3. Practical advice:

• Avoid weekends: the palace is among the busiest places in Istanbul.

• Bring a bottle of water and comfortable shoes: the paths are long and paved with uneven stone.

• If you love photography, prefer early morning or late afternoon, when the grazing light illuminates the majolica tiles and the Bosphorus behind the palace.

While I've recommended using Tiqets on several occasions, my experience with Topkapi was terrible: I'd purchased a combined ticket (Topkapi + Hagia Sophia) through Tiqets, and converting it into a valid admission ticket was a pain in the ass. I basically had to find a poorly signposted location where a guide, via a series of phone calls, would have the ticket converted. This resulted in an hour's delay (which I had to take away from visiting both monuments) and a lot of stress, because during that hour it wasn't at all clear whether I'd actually be able to access the monuments. In the meantime, I had to make a series of phone calls to the American Express concierge service, which was very courteous and helpful, but only managed to get back to me around 4 PM, by which time I'd already resolved the issue on my own.

Reading recommendations

The Ottoman world, and the Ottoman court in particular, are quite alien to a Western tourist, and I believe that simply reading a few books isn't enough to master the history and culture of that civilization. In fact, two books I recommend, which I had read before my trip to Istanbul, weren't particularly helpful in adding something extra to my visit to Topkapi. However, I recommend them as essential reading before your trip:

• Corrado Augias, The Secrets of Istanbul: Stories, Places, and Legends of a Capital , Turin, Einaudi . An enjoyable read. It immediately states that it doesn't intend to be a tourist guide to the Ottoman capital, but in some ways it is indeed a tourist guide with a literary slant. It devotes considerable space to Topkapi Palace, recounting its history, secrets, and plots. (I’m not sure whether this book is also available in English. I believe it was translated, but it’s no longer in print).

• Orhan Pamuk, Istanbul, Turin, Einaudi. This is in no way a travel guide and does not deal in any way with Topkapi Palace, but it is inevitable to recommend it to anyone planning a trip to Istanbul as a first step free from stereotypes in the Turkish metropolis.

VISIT EXPERIENCE AND FINAL REVIEW

A visit to Topkapi Palace is no different from visiting the great imperial or noble residences that can be visited around the world, such as the Palace of Versailles, the Royal Palace of Caserta, the Ducal Palace of Mantua, Schönbrunn Palace, Nijō Castle in Kyoto...

Once past the incredibly slow and interminable security checks, you enter the external courtyards and what immediately strikes you is the magnificence of the building and the richness of the well-kept gardens.

The day I visited the palace, on a bright weekend in June, it was unfortunately crammed with tourists, almost reaching capacity. The tour schedule and itinerary were almost constrained by the endless flow of visitors moving about, almost as if on a conveyor belt. At times, the flow of tourists reminded me of the shift change scene in Fritz Lang's Metropolis, though the crowds were certainly less orderly and disciplined. This overcrowding certainly detracts from the visitor experience; at one point, I found myself trapped in a corridor leading to a nondescript and insignificant hammam, where a bottleneck allowed only one person to pass, and the flow of people entering and exiting had failed to self-discipline to manage the brief one-way system, with results bordering on the grotesque. This perpetually moving serpent also affects the enjoyment of the exhibits. While some rooms, such as those displaying the illuminated manuscripts of the Koran, are more neglected and allow a few moments to free oneself from the herd, where gold and precious stones are most abundant the crowds crowd together and push, requiring fractions of a second to contemplate the works and flow.

Perhaps for this reason, in the end, what is most impressive are the rooms: the lush gardens with panoramic views of the Bosphorus (the Ottomans evidently had a nose for real estate investments); the sumptuous halls decorated with Iznik ceramics; the furnishings inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Another evocative element, jarring with the overwhelming siege of hyper-consumerist tourism, is the sacred/profane syncretism that still permeates the premises: visiting the buildings, which have been used as museums for nearly a century now, walking through the rooms where muezzins chant verses from the Quran, has an effect that is both sacred and alienating, entirely unlike the other great imperial residences I've mentioned. Among these, Topkapi Palace is probably not the most beautiful (the Royal Palace of Caserta or the Ducal Palace of Mantua, to name just two, are superior), but it is still one of the most surprising places to visit in Istanbul and an essential stop for learning about the history of the Ottoman Empire, albeit with yet another regret for the damage that overtourism is inexorably wreaking everywhere.