and are charmed with their picturesque beauty. The long line of
elevated coast sweeps in and out, projecting and receding, with bays
stretching inland, at the end of which one catches glimpses of soft
valleys sloping upward to the hills, behind and above which is the
mountain-ridge which forms the backbone of the island. These valleys
once supported a large population; but now, under the destructive
Turkish rule, it has dwindled till there are not forty thousand left.
A few poor villages cling to the hill-sides whose inhabitants live
on their small plantations of olives, or derive a scanty living from
the sea, from which they gather sponges and coral. But with a better
government and increased facilities for agriculture and commerce,
there is no reason why Rhodes may not recover something of its former
prosperity. Its climate is still the finest in the Mediterranean; the
sun shines brightly as ever; and the valleys, spite of all the waste
and neglect, still retain their natural fertility. With proper culture,
they would yield rich harvests, besides oranges and lemons and citrons,
with the figs and raisins, which are now exported so largely from
Smyrna; while the olive-trees, which grow abundantly, would pour forth
"rivers of oil."
We are now in the heart of the Greek Archipelago, which has been
famed for its beauty from the days of Homer. As we stood in a group
on deck, entranced with the swiftly-changing scene, it was natural
that we should compare it with our observation in other parts of the
world. A couple of our fellow-passengers, who were on their return
from the Far East, said that it reminded them of the Inland Sea of
Japan. My thoughts turned to the Malayan Archipelago, where the islands
hang rich with tropical vegetation, and the seas flash at night with
phosphorescent splendor. But with all that is attractive in those
groups of islands, I can hardly believe anything to be equal to this
Greek Archipelago. It seems to me that no waters can be so beautiful
as those of the Ægean Sea, although there are waters of wonderful
clearness in our Western Hemisphere, notably those round the Bahamas
and the Bermudas.
And then the Greek islands, so many in number, are of all sizes, large
and small, from the rocky islet, fit only for a sea-gull's nest, to an
island containing hundreds of square miles. All have the same general
character, rising directly from the sea. The coasts are often so rocky
that it seems as if a goat could hardly live upon them, and yet midway
between the cliffs are little hamlets and patches of cultivation. The
outlines of the higher peaks of the islands, broken and jagged, remind
us, as they stand up against the sky, of Capri and Ischia in the Bay
of Naples, or those African mountains which we saw from the Peninsula
of Sinai, on the other side of the Red Sea. Putting all these things
together, whatever may be said of the Malayan Archipelago, or of the
Inland Sea of Japan, I give my voice for the Greek Archipelago as the
most wonderful combination of land and sea, where the most picturesque
of islands rise out of the fairest of waters.
[Illustration: CORINTH, GREECE]
We did not touch at Patmos. There is nothing to invite a steamer to
turn aside from its course to visit it, except it were to gratify the
curiosity of travellers. It has no commerce of any kind. Indeed, its
few inhabitants have at certain seasons of the year to cross to other
islands to procure the means of subsistence. So barren is it that it
was chosen by the Roman emperors as a place of banishment, on which
prisoners could be confined as to a rock in the ocean. Yet this poor
little island has gathered about it a mighty tradition, for it was
the place of exile of the last of the Apostles. "I, John, was in the
isle that is called Patmos, for the Word of God, and for the testimony
of Jesus Christ." Here he wrote the Book of Revelation, and here was
erected in the twelfth century a monastery bearing his name. We thought
we could just discern the outline of the island and the convent rising
above it on the western horizon.
The next morning at daylight we were off Scio, that island of sad
and bloody memories. Sixty years ago it was the scene of an event
which made the ears of the civilized world to tingle. When the Greek
Revolution broke out in 1822 it is said that the people here were
reluctant to take part in it, but were stirred up by emissaries from
Samos; and, perhaps because Scio had been one of the most prosperous of
the Greek islands, it was to be the special mark of Turkish vengeance.
A fleet anchored off the town, and without a warning of its terrible
fate, soldiers were let loose upon the inhabitants. No age or sex was
spared. Not only were men cut down in their homes, but their wives and
children with them. Twenty-two thousand were put to the sword, and
forty-seven thousand were sold into slavery. But this massacre was not
to go unavenged. The Greeks had no ships of war, but they converted old
hulks into fire-ships, in which they sailed with the utmost daring into
the centre of the Turkish fleet, and setting them on fire, escaped in
their boats. The flag-ship was burnt, and the admiral and crew perished
in the flames,--a terrible retribution for the massacre of Scio. Since
Greek independence was secured, it has partly recovered; but several
years since the town was nearly destroyed by an earthquake, so that it
seems as if the island were doomed to destruction.
But all over this wreck and ruin shines the brightness of a name that
will ever give to it a place in history. It is the reputed birthplace
of Homer, and as such cannot be passed by without notice by the
traveller.
[From Scio, Dr. Field sailed for Asia Minor, and spent some time
among its historic cities. On his return he passed the island
of Lesbos, which has long been famous as the home of Sappho and
others of the lyric poets of Greece.]
As the afternoon drew on, we were approaching a large island,--the
ancient Lesbos, now Mitylene,--and as we were on its eastern side,
and the sun was sinking in the west, we were coming under its shadow,
and this softer light enabled us to see it better than we could have
done in the glare of noonday. The tops of the mountains stood out
with wonderful clearness against the sky, while the outline of the
coast winding in and out with its headlands and its bays, and the soft
green valleys rising from the shore and running upward to the slopes
of the hills, gave it an infinite variety and beauty. Clinging to the
hill-sides were pretty villages, with groves of oak cultivated for the
acorns they yield, which are used for tanning purposes and exported
to Europe, while the pine-forests on the mountains furnish timber and
pitch.
The valleys are very fertile, and if they are not "covered over with
corn," they have large plantations of fig and other fruit-trees; while
the olive-orchards, if they do not pour out "rivers of oil," yet yield
it in such abundance as makes it the chief industry of the island,
and furnishes a source of wealth to the thrifty inhabitants. All these
varieties of vegetation were now in their perfect bloom, as it was the
middle of May, when in the East the earth rejoices in the freshness
of spring-time. As we sailed along these shores in the twilight, I
wondered if a fairer Arcadia ever rose out of the waters of this
troubled world.
The island of Lesbos has an important place in Greek history, even at
its most remote period. As early as the siege of Troy it had a large
population, and continued to flourish for centuries.
When Athens had its Academy, Lesbos had its schools of philosophy,
which attracted the wise men of Greece. It was even more famous as the
birthplace of a school of lyric poets,--
"Where burning Sappho lived and sung,"
and others whose stirring odes live in the collections of Greek poetry.
When the Romans became masters of the East they were attracted by
the beauty of the Greek islands. Their fondness for a mild-tempered
climate, such as is found in greatest perfection in an island lying in
summer seas, where the temperature of the sea softens alike the heat
of summer and the cold of winter,--which led them to choose Ischia
and Capri, at the mouth of the Bay of Naples, as favorite abodes of
Imperial luxury,--led them, when sent to distant provinces, to choose
Lesbos, which Tacitus describes in a line as "_insula nobilis et
amoena_" [a noble and pleasant island], as one of those semi-royal
retreats in which a Roman governor might pass his splendid exile, and
almost forget his absence from the imperial city....
On the whole, Mitylene seems to me the most important, as well as the
most beautiful, island of the Archipelago, and this very beauty and
fertility but increase the regret that it should be under the rule of
Turkey when it ought to belong to Greece. It is nearer to Athens than
to Constantinople. It lies midway between the shores of Asia Minor and
the mainland of Greece, and its population is almost wholly Greek. It
is Greek in religion. One coming into Mitylene sees neither mosque nor
minaret. Thus it is Greek by its position, its history, and its people.
If ever there comes a time of "the restitution of all things," the
island will be taken from Turkey and restored to its natural place as
part of the young kingdom of Greece.
THE SERAGLIO ON THE GOLDEN HORN.
EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE.
[Dr. Clarke, in his animated descriptions of the countries of
Eastern Europe, gives picturesque accounts of what is to be seen
in Constantinople and other portions of the Sultan's domain.
Perhaps the most interesting of these is his description of a
stolen visit to the seraglio, a tabooed place only to be inspected
at imminent risk of life. Our traveller managed to see it quite
thoroughly, as will be seen from his story of the dangerous
enterprise.]
I eagerly sought an opportunity to examine the interior of the
seraglio; and, difficult as the undertaking may seem, soon found the
means of its accomplishment. The harmony existing between England and
the Porte at that critical juncture when Egypt was to be restored
to the Turks by the valor of our troops, greatly facilitated the
enterprise. I felt convinced that within the walls of the seraglio many
interesting antiquities were concealed from observation; and I was not
disappointed.
The first place to which my observations were directed was the
imperial armory; and here, to my great gratification, I beheld the
weapons, shields, and military engines of the Greek emperors, exactly
corresponding with those represented on the medals and bas-reliefs of
the ancients, suspended as trophies of the capture of the city by the
Turks....
Soon after this some pages, belonging to the seraglio, brought
from the Sultan's apartments the fragments of a magnificent vase
of jasper-agate, which, it was said, his highness had dashed to
pieces in a moment of anger. As these fragments were cast away, and
disregarded, they came at last into the hands of a poor lapidary, who
earned a scanty livelihood by cutting and polishing stones for the
signet-rings of the Turks. In one of my mineralogical excursions, the
merchants of the _bez esten_, where jewels are sold, directed me to the
laboratory of this man, to obtain the precious stones of the country
in their natural state. He was then employed upon the fragments of
this vase, and very gladly spared the labor which he would otherwise
have bestowed by consigning, for a small sum, the whole of them to
me. It is hardly possible to conceive a more extraordinary proof of
the genius and industry of Grecian artists than was presented by
this vase. Its fragments are still in my possession; and have been
reserved for annual exhibition, during a course of public lectures in
the University of Cambridge. When it is stated that the treasury of
Mithridates contained four thousand specimens of similar manufacture,
all of which came into the hands of the Romans, and that the Turks are
unable to execute anything of the same nature, it is highly probable
this curious relique originally constituted one of the number, which,
after passing into the possession of the Turks at the conquest of the
city, had continued to adorn the palace of their sovereigns. Such a
conjecture is strengthened by the mythological figure, represented in
exquisite sculpture, on the vase itself. It consists of an entire mass
of green jasper-agate, beautifully variegated with veins and spots of
a vermilion color; so that part of it exhibits the ribbon-jasper and
part the bloodstone. The handle is formed to represent the head of
a griffin (carved in all the perfection of the finest cameo), whose
extended wings and claws cover the exterior surface. The difficulty of
working a silicious concretion of such extraordinary hardness needs not
to be specified; it may be presumed that the entire life of the ancient
lapidary, by whom it was wrought, could have been scarcely adequate to
such a performance; nor do we at all know in what manner the work was
effected. Yet there are parts of it in which the sides of the vase are
as thin as the finest porcelain.
A second visit, which I made to the interior of the seraglio, was not
attended by any very interesting discovery; but as it enabled me to
describe with minuteness scenes hitherto impervious to European eyes,
the reader may be gratified by the observations made within those
walls. Every one is curious to know what exists within recesses which
have been long closed against the intrusion of Christians. In vain does
the eye, roaming from the towers of Galata, Pera, and Constantinople,
attempt to penetrate the thick gloom of cypresses and domes which
distinguishes the most beautiful part of Constantinople. Imagination
magnifies things unknown; and when, in addition to the curiosity
always excited by mystery, the reflection is suggested that ancient
Byzantium occupied the site of the Sultan's palace, a thirst of inquiry
is proportionably augmented. I promise to conduct my readers not only
within the retirement of the seraglio, but into the charem itself, and
the most secluded haunts of the Turkish sovereign. Would only I could
also promise a degree of satisfaction, in this respect, adequate to
their desire of information.
It so happened that the gardener of the Grand Seignior, during our
residence in Constantinople, was a German. This person used to mix
with the society in Pera, and often joined in the evening parties
given by the different foreign ministers. In this manner we became
acquainted with him, and were invited to his apartments within the
walls of the seraglio, close to the gates of the Sultan's garden.
We were accompanied during our first visit by his intimate friend,
the secretary and chaplain of the Swedish mission, who, but a short
time before, had succeeded in obtaining a sight of the four principal
Sultanas and the Sultan mother, in consequence of his frequent visits
to the gardener. They were sitting together one morning, when the
cries of the black eunuchs, opening the door of the charem, which
communicated with the seraglio gardens, announced that these ladies
were going to take the air. In order to do this it was necessary to
pass the gates adjoining the gardener's lodge, where an _arabat_ was
stationed to receive them, in which it was usual for them to drive
round the walks of the seraglio, within the walls of the palace.
Upon these occasions the black eunuchs examine every part of the
garden, and run before the women, calling out to all persons to avoid
approaching or beholding them, under pain of death. The gardener and
his friend the Swede instantly closed all the shutters and locked the
doors. The black eunuchs arriving soon after, and finding the lodge
shut, supposed the gardener to be absent. Presently followed the Sultan
mother, with the four principal Sultanas, who were in high glee,
romping and laughing with each other. A small scullery window of the
gardener's lodge looked directly towards the gate through which these
ladies were to pass, and was separated from it only by a few yards.
Here, through two small gimlet-holes, bored for that purpose, they
beheld very distinctly the features of the women, whom they described
as possessing extraordinary beauty. Three of the four were Georgians,
having dark complexions and very long dark hair; but the fourth was
remarkably fair, and her hair, also of singular length and thickness,
was of a flaxen color; neither were their teeth dyed black, as those of
Turkish women generally are.
The Swedish gentleman said he was almost sure they suspected they were
seen, from the address they manifested in displaying their charms and
in loitering at the gate. This gave him and his friend no small degree
of terror, as they would have paid for their curiosity with their lives
if any such suspicion had entered the minds of the black eunuchs. He
described their dresses as rich beyond all that can be imagined. Long
spangled robes, open in front, with pantaloons embroidered in gold
and silver, and covered by a profusion of pearls and precious stones,
displayed their persons to great advantage, but were so heavy as to
actually encumber their motion and almost to impede their walking.
Their hair hung in loose and very thick tresses on each side of their
cheeks, falling quite down to the waist, and covering their shoulders
behind. Those tresses were quite powdered with diamonds, not displayed
according to any studied arrangement, but as if carelessly scattered
by handfuls among their flowing locks. On the top of their heads, and
rather leaning to one side, they wore each of them a small circular
patch or diadem. Their faces, necks, and even their breasts were quite
exposed, not one of them having any veil.
The German gardener, who had daily access to different parts of the
seraglio, offered to conduct us not only over the gardens, but
promised, if we would come singly, during the season of the _Ramadan_,
when the guards, being up all night, would be stupefied during the day
with sleep and intoxication, to undertake the greater risk of showing
us the interior of the charem, or apartments of the women,--that is
to say, of that part which they inhabit during the summer; for they
were still in their winter chambers. We readily accepted this offer.
I only solicited the further indulgence of being accompanied by a
French artist of the name of Preaux, whose extraordinary promptitude
in design would enable him to bring away sketches of anything we might
find interesting, either in the charem or gardens of the seraglio.
The apprehensions of Monsieur Preaux were, however, so great, that it
was with the greatest difficulty I could prevail upon him to venture
into the seraglio, and he afterwards either lost or secreted the only
drawing which his fears would allow him to make while he was there.
We left Pera, in a gondola, about seven o'clock in the morning,
embarking at Tophana, and steering towards that gate of the seraglio
which faces the Bosporus on the southeastern side, where the entrance
to the seraglio gardens and the gardener's lodge are situated. A
bostanghy, as a sort of porter, is usually seated, with his attendants,
within the portal. Upon entering the seraglio, the spectator is struck
by a wild and confused assemblage of great and interesting objects.
Among the first of these are enormous cypresses, massive and lofty
masonry, neglected and broken sarcophagi, high-rising mounds, and a
long, gloomy avenue, leading from the gates of the garden between
the double walls of the seraglio. This gate is the same by which the
Sultanas came out for the airing before alluded to, and the gardener's
lodge is on the right hand of it. The avenue extending from it towards
the west offers a broad and beautiful, although solitary, walk, to a
very considerable extent shut in by high walls on both sides. Directly
opposite this entrance of the seraglio is a very lofty mound, or bank,
covered by large trees, and traversed by terraces, over which, on the
top, are walls with turrets. On the right hand, after entering, are the
large wooden folding doors of the Grand Seignior's gardens, and near
them lie many fragments of ancient marbles, appropriated to the vilest
purposes; among others, a sarcophagus of one block of marble, covered
with a simple though unmeaning bas-relief.
Entering the gardens by the folding doors, a pleasing _coup d'oeil_
of trellis-work and covered walks is displayed, more after the
taste of Holland than that of any other country. Various and very
despicable _jets d'eau_, straight gravel-walks, and borders disposed
in parallelograms, with the exception of a long greenhouse filled with
orange-trees, compose all that appears in the small spot which bears
the name of the seraglio gardens. The view on entering is down the
principal gravel-walk, and all the walks meet at the central point,
beneath a dome of the same trellis-work by which they are covered.
Small fountains spout a few quarts of water into large shells, or
form parachutes over lighted bougies, by the sides of the walks.
The trellis-work is of wood, painted white, and covered by jasmine;
and this, as it does not conceal the artificial frame by which it
is supported, produces a wretched effect. On the outside of the
trellis-work appear small parterres, edged with box, containing very
common flowers, and adorned with fountains. On the right hand, after
entering the garden, appears the magnificent kiosk, which constitutes
the Sultan's summer residence; and farther on is the orangery before
mentioned, occupying the whole extent of the wall on that side.
Exactly opposite the garden gates is the door of the charem, or palace
of the women belonging to the Grand Seignior; a building not unlike
one of the small colleges in Cambridge, and enclosing the same sort of
cloistered court. One side of this building extends across the upper
extremity of the garden, so that the windows look into it. Below these
windows are two small greenhouses, filled with very common plants, and
a number of canary-birds. Before the charem windows, on the right hand,
is a ponderous, gloomy, wooden door; and this, creaking on its massive
hinges, opens to the quadrangle, or interior court of the charem
itself.... We will keep this door shut for a short time, in order to
describe the seraglio gardens more minutely; and afterwards open it, to
gratify the reader's curiosity.
Still facing the charem on the left hand is a paved ascent, leading,
through a handsome gilded iron gate, from the lower to the upper
garden. Here is a kiosk, which I shall presently describe. Returning
from the charem to the door by which we first entered, a lofty wall on
the right hand supports a terrace with a few small parterres: these,
at a considerable height above the lower garden, constitute what is
now called the upper part of the seraglio; and, till within these few
years, it was the only one.
Having thus completed the tour of this small and insignificant spot
of ground, let us now enter the kiosk, which I first mentioned as
the Sultan's summer residence. It is situated on the sea-shore, and
commands one of the finest views the eye ever beheld, of Scutari and
the Asiatic coast, the mouth of the canal, and a moving picture of
ships, gondolas, dolphins, birds, with all the floating pageantry of
this vast metropolis, such as no other capital in the world can pretend
to exhibit. The kiosk itself, fashioned after the airy fantastic
style of Eastern architecture, presents a spacious chamber, covered
by a dome, from which, towards the sea, advances a raised platform
surrounded by windows, and terminated by a divan. On the right and
left are the private apartments of the Sultan and his ladies. From
the centre of the dome is suspended a large lustre presented by the
English ambassador. Above the raised platform hangs another lustre of a
smaller size, but more elegant. Immediately over the sofas constituting
the divan are mirrors engraved with Turkish inscriptions; poetry and
passages from the Korân. The sofas are of white satin beautifully
embroidered by the women of the seraglio.
[Our traveller proceeds to describe the various apartments
visited, including the rooms devoted to the women of the
seraglio, and the charem (or harem) itself. Passing through large
dormitories, the great chamber of audience of the Sultan mother
was reached, an apartment theatrical in adornment, and giving "a
striking idea of the pomp, the seclusion, and the magnificence of
the Ottoman court."]