CHAPTER XVII.

GEUZNA. FEVER EPIDEMIC IN MERSINA.

_July 21st._—The heat of the sun as he rose above the horizon was

very great, and we felt it severely as we had no shelter; we hastened

therefore to breakfast and start, but not before leaving a few medicines

for the patient of last night, who is in a dangerous state. This valley

must be a very hotbed of fever; the dampness is excessive, and the air

heavy and enervating. It is always so in valleys at the foot of lofty

mountain ranges. Our course was parallel with the river, over undulating

hills and across ravines half cleared of forest and full of rich herbage.

High chains of mountains shut in the valley north and south. In about

an hour we entered the virgin forest. Here in the valley it consists

entirely of juniper trees (ardidj), but very fine indeed. This forest is

too distant for the “tahtajis” to cut, and the trees, from springing up

closely together, grow tall and tapering, not like junipers usually are,

very thick at bottom, then quickly tapering and short. Here excellent

masts for the largest ships might be cut; I saw hundreds together,

straight and taper as a dart, and from seventy to eighty feet high.

The heights above are covered with an equally luxuriant growth of pine

(tcham) and “ketràn.” All the mountain ranges from this point along the

coast of Karamania westwards—one may say almost all the way to Smyrna—are

full of forest. But the noblest forests of all, are between Selefke

(Seleucia) and Anamour (Anemurium). There, the trees grow as they have

grown for centuries; it is only of late years that the woodman’s axe has

been heard in those stately woods, and as yet much of the forests of

South Karamania are virgin.

At length we emerged from the woods of juniper, passed some extensive

clearings and a tchiftlik (farm), and began to approach the river. Its

banks here are fringed with magnificent planes; a little way back are

groves of walnut and oak; the mountains all along, are densely covered

with pine and ketràn. The river itself resembles an English trout stream,

and the most beautiful glades and bits of natural meadow-land occur along

it at intervals. There seem to be scarcely any inhabitants, and from

Efrenk downwards we only saw two or three Yourouks.

After following the stream about an hour and a quarter, we turned up the

mountain side to our left; a very steep ascent brought us to the summit;

here we found a small encampment of villagers. As yet I had not been able

to discover our route on the map, and was uncertain where we were, but

one of the elder villagers came up while we were resting and allowing the

horses to graze, and on questioning him, I found that we had come much

farther to the north than I had supposed. He pointed out the direction

of Deirmen Deresi, Nemroun, and Geuzna; then turning to me, “But I have

never seen you, Effendim, in Mersina; Ajeba! have you come to farm the

dîme?” We laughed heartily at the tone in which he asked the question.

At last we saw the back of the ranges which overhang Mersina, of broken

and very beautiful outline, and overspread with dense forest. Through

this portion of the chain, which forms the outposts of Bulghar Dagh,

three rivers make their way to the plain—the river of Pompeiopolis, the

river of Ichma, and the river of Mersina, the same whose head waters we

had crossed above Efrenk, and along whose course we had been all the

morning advancing. The ravines of these rivers are bordered by walls of

red limestone, not perhaps so great as some of the vast precipices I had

seen in the interior, but still very grand and imposing. There was one

of these precipice-bordered ravines just below the spot at which we now

left the river, and the strip of land in the river bottom was richly

cultivated, and green as an emerald.

I asked the name of this spot from several wayfarers whom we met. At last

I learned it was called Soundrass or Soundratch. The village of the same

name is on the west side of the river, opposite to the spot where we

turned off eastwards; near the village a magnificent spring bursts from

the rock and falls into the river, and this source forms the main water

supply of the town of Mersina.

We were now gradually approaching the last mountain bulwark which

separated us from the plain and from the sea, but many and steep were

the ascents and descents before the last great descent was reached. The

country was extremely picturesque, full of deep rocky dells, and broad

hills with precipitous sides; the open spaces brown and yellow with

grain crops, which the people were busily reaping; everywhere patches of

forest, and the whole surface of the country green as in England in “the

leafy month of June.”

At length from the top of the last ridge I saw the sea, and the plain

thickly covered with a curtain of cloud and mist. Pleasant thoughts of

home gave me fresh strength, though I was much exhausted by the hard work

and bad fare of the last few days, for we had been in the saddle eight

hours and a half on the 19th, nine and a half on the 20th, and to-day,

instead of four or five, as we had been told, we rode eight hours and a

quarter before we reached our halting place—Geuzna. But we had wandered a

little out of our way, and the direct road from Efrenk to Geuzna occupies

only six hours and a half.

The descent to the plain was down one of the great clefts in the chain,

such as I have before described, and bordered on either side by great

precipices of limestone or sandstone, furrowed by deep rifts, and full

of caverns. The change of climate and of vegetation was here very sudden

and remarkable. Instead of the dry, cold, bracing, and healthy air on

the plateaux and mountains of the interior, there is a warm, damp,

enervating atmosphere; instead of the towering pine forest, with almost

no undergrowth of brushwood or vegetation, a region succeeded full of the

densest underwood, and of trees altogether different—a curious mixture

of Northern European and semi-tropical vegetation—the oak, ash, ivy,

hawthorn, bramble, honeysuckle, and other trees and shrubs of Northern

Europe, but mixed with myrtle, arbutus, jujube, Judas tree, wild olive,

clematis, and other southern trees and shrubs. The most beautiful ferns

and creepers abounded. The season of flowers is past; in the spring and

early summer these romantic ravines and river dells must be full of a

charming flora, but with the returning heat comes malaria, and fever

lurks in every corner! This richness of vegetation is due to the abundant

rainfall which occurs daily along this the most southern line of the

mountain range.

The sea breeze, loaded with moisture, begins to blow about ten o’clock

A.M. Soon the mountain tops are covered with vapour, and heavy rain

ensues at intervals. It was so now; the thunder clouds gathered, and a

heavy downpour descended on us.

At 5 P.M. we reached the bottom of the descent, but did not advance into

the plain. The nearest village in the plain was still several hours

distant, and we hoped to reach Geuzna by sunset. There we should find

Europeans, and hear news of Mersina and Europe.

The precipice on our left receded gradually, and it was on the other face

of the mountain to which this belonged, that Geuzna was situated. We

turned towards the left near a small ruined Saracenic fort, and began to

mount transversely the face of the mountain, through a wood more like a

thick English wood than anything I had before seen in the East, following

a path made by the cattle through the tangled brush and thick underwood,

the rain all the while falling heavily. Night had closed in when we saw

above us in a deep cleft the lights of the village of Geuzna. The music

of plashing runnels from many a fountain struck pleasantly upon the ear,

and at length, after passing numerous houses amid umbrageous gardens,

we reined in our tired horses under a wide-spreading plane tree near a

resounding source, and Nahli went to search for a lodging. He found one

in the house of the Austrian Consul, Mr. Castravelli (since dead). He

was himself in Mersina, but his housekeeper offered me a room. It was

more difficult to find food for the horses, and an hour and a half passed

before Nahli could procure barley and straw (“saman”) for them, and then

only by paying exorbitantly.

On his return Nahli told me, with the peculiar laugh he always had

when there was disagreeable news to communicate, or the misfortunes of

anyone to relate, that “cholera had appeared in Syria and was spreading

both in Damascus and Beyrout; that the Ottoman Government had imposed

a quarantine of ten days at least on all arrivals from Syria; that the

Russian line of steamers would be suspended, the next steamer being

the last that would call at Mersina; and it was even reported that the

service of the French line of steamers also would be discontinued.” This

was indeed unpleasant news, especially to one who knows what quarantine

signifies in the Levant; for in nearly all these countries the quarantine

establishments are perfectly atrocious! I bitterly repented now not

having gone on from Isaura to Smyrna. By this time we should have been

more than a third of the way there; but regrets were useless.

_July 22nd._—The balcony of Mr. Castravelli’s house commanded nearly the

whole of this pretty little settlement, the yaila of the Europeans of

Mersina, and partly also of Tarsus and Adana. It is situated in a gorge,

a depression at the top of the first high range between the coast and

Bulghar Dagh. Many intermediate heights of less elevation rise between it

and the plain, and down the gorge Mersina with its shipping—few indeed

just now—and a long line of coast could be distinctly seen. On all sides

the cliffs, as on yesterday’s route, were thickly covered with trees and

brushwood, from base to summit. The rainfall is very great here, and

almost every day several heavy showers fall. The houses of the village

are scattered about along the sides of the gorge, almost every one has

its garden and orchards. Several were pointed out to me as having once

belonged to an English gentleman, a certain Captain Dingwall, who some

fifteen years ago came out to Cilicia, and either from a spirit of

reckless speculation, or deceived by false representations, invested a

vast sum of money in the province. His first speculation—a large purchase

of cotton—was most lucrative; but soon afterwards the American civil war

came to an end, and heavy losses succeeded to the previous profits. Then

he began to import Manchester goods, but to such an enormous extent, as

to glut the market completely. Prices were depressed not less than 50

per cent., and even then sales could only be effected on credit. At that

time the money-lenders of the country were in the habit of advancing

money to the cultivators, on the security of their crops, at the usurious

interest of 5 and 6 per cent. per month, and in order to recoup his

enormous losses this unfortunate gentleman, through the agency of some

Syrians resident in the province, began to make advances to the native

cultivators on the additional security of the borrowers’ land and real

property. But with such recklessness was this done, that at last even

his agents refused to act, and sent back some of the sums consigned to

them for investment. In the meanwhile the state of the country became

continually worse; no money could be recovered from the debtors, land

was unsaleable, matters came to a complete dead-lock, and for six years,

incredible as it may seem, no communication took place between Captain

Dingwall and his agents; at length, about the year 1871, he came out to

Cilicia. His agents handed over to him all that was left out of the wreck

of his fortune, but he was completely ruined; the shock proved fatal, and

I saw his tomb in the Greek cemetery at Mersina.

When a vessel becomes derelict, no wonder if plunderers use the

opportunity. The Dingwall succession was in this position. It fell

into the hands of a knot of dishonest Syrian Christians, and a large

portion even of what had been left, disappeared, so that when at length

liquidators were sent out from England, the mischief was past remedy,

and I believe not much above five per cent. of the moneys invested was

ever recovered. I am credibly informed that the value in all of about

90,000_l._ in money and goods was lost. This extraordinary case is far

too complicated to relate in full, but the main facts are as I have given

them, and I relate them as a warning. The island of Cyprus has lately

become a part of the British Empire, and it is to be feared that much too

sanguine expectations have been formed concerning it. Cyprus is doubtless

rich in resources, but if it at all resemble Karamania, those resources

will require a long time to develop; probably much British capital will

disappear in the process, and it is certain that the ports of the Levant

abound with clever, plausible, and dishonest persons,—notably some of

the native Christians able to speak English—who in their own country are

adepts in every kind of chicanery.

The climate of Geuzna is mild and agreeable, but extremely damp, and I

much doubt if it be healthy now, but the autumnal months must be charming

here, and it is inhabited by a few of the natives all the year round,

although winter brings with it a deep snowfall.

Just as we were about to start, our souriji appeared. He objected to go

down to Mersina; he wished to be paid, as he desired to return at once to

Karaman. Had I consented, this would have entailed another day’s delay.

Nahli advised me to let him go, and deduct some of his pay, but this

did not suit me. I told him “he had agreed to carry my baggage down to

Mersina, and unless he fulfilled his agreement, I should not pay him. He

must not suppose he could treat me as he pleased; we were not now in Kara

Dagh or Allah Dagh” (at which he looked somewhat taken aback). I then

asked him what he meant to do. To which, after a little hesitation, he

replied, “Neh yapaim?” “What can I do? I will go.”

We started at 10 A.M. The road, though very steep, is good, and in

some places well made of large blocks of stone fitted together. It is

one continual descent through lovely dells and romantic river valleys,

(Karanlik Dere and Dalak Dere) to the plain. It is a descent from moist,

cool spring, to burning and yet _damp_ heat, far worse than the worst

autumnal weather in Egypt. The side ravines, the richly cultivated

lands in the dells, the fine trees in the river bottoms, the luxuriant

vegetation along the whole route, are perfectly charming. At eleven heavy

rain came on and lasted an hour and a half. At 2 P.M. we came to a small

café, but it was full, literally, of people sick of fever. More than

a dozen were lying on the floor, or in the balcony, in various stages

of the sickness; some rolled up in thick rugs, were shivering with the

deadly chill, although the heat indoors was now above 85° Fahrenheit.

Others had passed out of the cold stage, and were lying exhausted, with

dull glazed eyes, and sallow, shrunken faces. The cafeji was too ill to

attend to us. It was a very ill-omened sight, and on the road we met

several other sick people on their way to Geuzna, in order to escape the

heat and malaria of the plain. Alas! too many only carry their death with

them, so deadly and obstinate is sometimes the form of malarious fever

which prevails on the lowlands of Cilicia!

At 3 P.M. we came to the little village of Boloukli; it is on a rocky

height, about 500 feet above the level of the plain, and close upon its

edge. The air of the place, though far from being good, is yet a little

fresher than the air of the town, and it is near, being only an hour and

a quarter’s ride from Mersina, so that many of the business people of the

town have country houses there.

Here I found Mr. Tattarachi, the British Vice-Consul, sick of fever and

dysentery. Although recovering, he is still miserably weak, too weak,

indeed, for a sea voyage, even if quarantine did not deter him from

leaving.

At 6 P.M. we started to cross the plain to Mersina. Although so late in

the day, the sun was still very powerful, and the stifling heat of the

town and plain quite overpowering. As we approached Mersina through the

gardens which surround it, I saw many sick people lying on mattresses

spread upon the ground at the door of their houses. They had been brought

out for air; as for coolness, it was not to be had, day and night being

almost equally hot. The mortality during the past two months has been

very great, and several of my interpreter’s personal friends had died. I

hoped, however, to be on the sea in two days, but as we entered the town

we heard that in all probability the Russian steamer would not call at

Mersina.

There was yet another disappointment: we halted at Nahli’s house, but

found that during his absence his brother-in-law had sublet it; so our

only shelter was the khan, which, however, is good and clean, being new,

and open only to respectable people. Sleep was impossible; the damp and

stifling heat quite prevented it, not to mention the incessant attacks of

sandflies and mosquitoes.

_July 23rd._—Rose utterly exhausted. Nahli has engaged himself in the

Government service as a collector of the dîme, and has brought me his

young brother-in-law to wait upon me. He offers to buy from me the horse

he has ridden on the journey; the price is very low, but he has acted so

well throughout, that I have done him this little favour on condition

that if all the lines of steamers should be suspended (as it is reported

will be the case), the sale shall be void, and in that case he is to give

up the Government service and come with me overland to Smyrna, for I

cannot pass all the summer in Asia Minor.

Went out together to breakfast at a little Greek restaurant, and found

the cookery tolerable. The number of people who are sick in the town is

truly astonishing. The news from Damascus is bad—cholera reported on the

increase, and it is feared that it may appear any day at Adana. The agent

of the Russian steamer cannot say whether or not the steamer is coming—in

his opinion, _not_. This will entail at least eight days’ stay either in

Mersina or Boloukli, or in Geuzna. A room in Mr. Mavromati’s house at

Boloukli has been offered to me, but the house is empty—not so much as

a divan in it—no company, and no place at which I can obtain food, and

I know no one there except Tattarachi, who is still very sick. Geuzna

is even worse in these respects, and six hours distant. But the heat of

Mersina was so oppressive that I prepared to start for Boloukli. At the

last minute, however, I decided upon staying in the town, as it is just

possible—though unlikely now—that the Russian steamer may call, and I

must not throw away any chance.

I hear that our Yourouk friend, Mustafa Tekerlèk, is likely to fall

into great trouble; indeed, it is thought that he will be sent to the

Government arsenal at Larnaca, in Cyprus, where in all probability he

would soon die, accustomed as he is to the free life and pure air of the

mountains; for it is a most unhealthy place. It seems that years ago

he used to rob travellers and caravans passing through his district,

whenever the opportunity offered; but when the Government began to be

severe on such practices he turned over a new leaf. By his own account

he was a thoroughly honourable man, who looked tenderly after the

welfare of travellers. It seems, however, that of late he has begun to

resume his old practices, being rendered a little desperate owing to the

seizure of his wheat by the Kaimakam of Mersina for arrears of taxes.

The people here said that he had treated us with much courtesy, “for

him,” partly because of the letter of recommendation to him from the

man at Ibrala, partly because it is dangerous to molest Europeans—above

all, those who are known to the authorities—and I cannot help thinking

that our pistols had some little effect, and all the more in consequence

of Nahli’s exaggerations about them. Our informant also said that

Mustafa was not hospitable, and seldom or never gave any refreshment to

strangers. Certainly, what we had received from him was not much, all

the supper I could obtain being a small cup of milk, and a little bit

of native bread! Our breakfast next morning we purchased of one of the

other Yourouks. The troublesome fellow, too, who was so pertinacious in

his attendance, was well known to the police of Mersina as a suspicious

character and associate of thieves, and I am convinced that the object of

his coming so often was to spy out the contents of my zinc case. On the

principle, I suppose, that two of a trade never agree, Mustafa did not

like our souriji. Certainly the latter, as I have said, is no souriji by

profession. He seems to know little or nothing about the duties of such

a calling; and since he has been in Mersina he has sold one of his mares,

and is haunting the drinking shops all the day long—by no means like a

good Muslim! Happily for us, no harm arose from it all. To rob a European

so near the coast would make too much noise—farther inland it would be

very different—besides, they would at least _expect_ to be resisted, and

with good European arms, whatever resolution the traveller might himself

come to on the point! Still, if the people of the country were determined

to rob travellers they could very easily do it, and all resistance would

be worse than useless. This must be remembered to their credit; nor in so

wild and thinly peopled a country would malefactors find much difficulty

in concealing themselves.[27]

_July 24th._—The Russian steamer has not arrived, nor is it telegraphed.

It is certain now that she will not come, so I must wait yet a week

for the French Messageries boat; but it is rumoured that even that

will not come! The heat and malaria here are awful. Should the French

steamer fail, nothing will remain but either to go up to Geuzna or Kulek

Boghaz, and wait till the cholera ceases, quarantine is relaxed, and the

steamers again call, or else to make my way as best I can, overland to

Smyrna—a journey of some twenty-three days. Nahli has promised to see me

through; but shall I be able to stand the journey? Every day in this heat

enfeebles me more and more. Should I ever again travel in this country,

on no account will I stay so late in the season. Although it is a most

beautiful and interesting land, yet the pleasure is balanced by the pain,

danger, and trouble inseparable from such a journey so late in the season.

Passed a dreadful night; the air of the room—nay, of the whole town—is

like that of a damp, yet hot, oven. How the people can endure it at all,

is to me most strange! As it is, the amount of sickness is appalling!

In every street are many poor fever-stricken patients, lying at their

doors, with sallow, shrunken faces and dull eyes. Many who are not

actually prostrate are still so ill that they can hardly crawl. Greek,

Turk, and Syrian all suffer alike. I have seen several of the people

from the mountains lying for days together in the street facing the sea,

and no one seems to take any notice of them, or to offer them any help.

The hospital is crowded; the poor khanji who has charge of my horse is

a wretched spectacle. Most of these poor people either cannot afford to

buy quinine, or what they can procure is of bad quality; and there is no

other remedy to be obtained here.

Breakfasted at the Greek restaurant, and fell in with the Austrian

naturalist, Haberhauer, whom I had seen at Tchukour Bagh, near Kulek

Boghaz. He was on his way to Europe, and he gave me good news that a

telegram had just been received from Constantinople announcing the

departure of an Ottoman steamer from Smyrna. She would come to Mersina,

and leave again on the same day, so that we should escape quarantine.

This report, however, proved unfounded.

At about 7 P.M. went out to Boloukli. I think that another three days’

stay in Mersina would have caused me a dangerous sickness; the climate

now is perfectly pestilential. I was strong and vigorous when I came

down from the mountains, but now all my strength is gone. Nahli’s

brother-in-law, Gabriel, a young lad of seventeen, came out to wait on

me; but though a native of the place, and accustomed to the climate, he

suffers as much as myself!

As we passed through the village of Christian Keui (formerly Giaour

Keui), half-way between Mersina and Boloukli, I saw that the inhabitants

were suffering just as in Mersina, and the souriji, a mountaineer, who

was bringing out what I needed, muttered to himself, as his eye fell on

the poor people lying about, “Sitma! sitma!” (fever! fever!).

Arrived at Mr. Mavromati’s country house, I managed to fit up a kind of

plank bedstead on trestles. Tattarachi lent me a few necessaries, but it

was very uncomfortable. Slept heavily, but was not refreshed.

_July 25th._—So utterly exhausted that I lay in a half stupor all day,

and seemed to be sickening for a severe fever; my head all wrong, and

all sorts of horrid dreams and visions present; at times I was almost

delirious. Can remember Gabriel coming in now and then and looking at me,

but can remember nothing else. Towards sunset came the crisis, as it were

a severe struggle going on in my head, and a feeling as if something was

being driven out of my brain. Very profuse perspiration came on, and I

was able to rise and take a strong dose of quinine, and give a dose to

Gabriel, who is also suffering. At about 8.30 crawled into Tattarachi’s

house to beg a little food, as the young lad is too ill to procure

anything for me, and there is no one else to do it. Passed a tranquil

night, but could not sleep.

_July 26th._—Tattarachi, who is better, came up to see me. I was just

taking another dose of quinine (about five grains). He laughed and said

that was too little; that he has often been obliged to take doses of

fifteen and twenty grains at a time. Only very strong doses would stop

the fever of this country. Can this be so? Surely the quinine must be

adulterated.

Boloukli is a bad place for an invalid. There is nothing to be had—no

meat, no milk, no butter—or else my poor attendant is too ill to go

about and forage. It seems to be a choice between fever in Mersina and

starvation here. I am like a prisoner in my room. I have a plank bedstead

and two or three rush chairs, and I shift uneasily from one to the other

all the day long. The position of the house is very good; it is at the

highest point of the village, commanding a view of Mersina, Christian

Keui, and the plain and sea. There is a small enclosed garden attached to

it, but quite uncultivated; and at one corner of it a spring bursts out

from under the rock with a volume of water as large as a man’s thigh.

The heat is tolerable till about 8 A.M. At about 10 A.M. the sea-breeze

begins to blow, but at this season of the year it is extremely slight.

Owing to the position of Mersina, shut in by lofty mountain ranges, there

is almost a stagnation of the air except for the sea-breeze; this comes

in, charged and saturated with moisture, but only serves now to render

the air yet more oppressive and relaxing. It dies out at about 4 P.M.

Then follows stifling, steamy heat, till, at some uncertain hour in the

night, a breeze blows from the mountains. It hardly deserves the name of

a breeze now, for it is scarcely perceptible, and resembles the softest

possible sigh. Still it produces some little effect, and at least renders

the early morning cool and pleasant. In short, Boloukli is a wretched

place, and yet its air is certainly better than the air of Mersina.

_July 27th._—Tranquil night, determined to ride into Mersina every

morning, and return to Boloukli each night. But found it very hard to

pass the time in Mersina. All places in the town seem to be alike. Never

have I felt so utterly exhausted. Mind and body alike lose all spring

and energy in this enervating air and heat. The sickness in the town

increases daily, and many funerals pass under my window. This morning I

counted five in a very short time.

At sunset returned to Boloukli. The chief crop round Mersina at this

season is sesame seed. The grain crops have long been reaped, but much of

the soil is uncultivated and covered with brush.

_July 28th._—Slight improvement in the weather, but only for one day.

News to-day from Syria worse. Every one fears an outbreak of cholera in

Adana, and consequently its appearance also at Tarsus and Mersina. If

so, there will be nothing left but to make my way as best I may, across

Asia Minor to Smyrna. The ride to and from Boloukli is not unpleasant. I

am generally accompanied by some of the people who are settled for the

summer at Boloukli, mostly Greeks or Syrians; nearly all speak French. It

is remarkable how great an influence France has upon the Roman Catholic

population of Syria. After the burning day in Mersina, the cool spring in

the garden of my dwelling is most refreshing, but I am cautioned not to

drink much of it, as the water is of bad quality. The water of the town,

which is good, though not cool, is supplied by an aqueduct from the river

to the west of the town. A few years ago the only water supply came from

wells; it was extremely unwholesome, and caused deadly fevers.

I dispensed with Gabriel’s attendance at Boloukli. The former owner of

the house is permitted by Mr. Mavromati to live there still, and he looks

to my horse and makes my coffee.

_July 29th._—No record. Same monotonous life.

_July 30th._—Roused early by a visit from Nahli. He looks dispirited,

and is disgusted with the Government service. It seems he had been sent

to some villages near Tarsus, to take account of the dîme. Many villages

purchase the dîme of their own crops, and at harvest time a Government

officer is sent round to estimate the amount due to the Government, which

is then paid in directly by the villagers. It is the most advantageous

arrangement for both parties, but at the same time offers great scope

for fraud, if only the inspector can be bribed—usually no very difficult

matter in this country. It seems the village he first visited is

inhabited by Nusairiyeh (“fellahhin,” as Nahli called them), and the

owner of the land was the Kaimakam of Mersina, himself a Nusairi. When

Nahli arrived, he had a very discourteous reception. The grain was yet

in the sheaf, unthreshed, and the villagers insisted on his estimating

the dîme of the crop in that condition, telling him “it was the custom”

there. When he refused to do this, and said “that he could not estimate

the crop until the grain had been threshed out,” high words arose. Nahli

tried to mount his horse and go away, but the men would not allow him

to leave; and it was evident that had he resisted he would have been

seriously maltreated. At length they forced him to affix his signet to

a paper, already prepared, to the effect that “he had estimated the

dîme of their harvest, and it amounted to so much.” Afraid to go to

any other of the Nusairiyeh villages in his district, he returned to

Mersina and complained to the Medjlis (Town Council). They, however,

were unwilling to quarrel with the Kaimakam, and advised him “not to

trouble about the matter, but to leave things as they were,” and they

would give him another district. The fact is, the man is too honest for

this country; and the advice I gave him was rather “politic” than “high

principled”—viz. “to float with the stream,” “that he could not expect

to reform the prevalent abuses; that he would only stir up for himself a

host of enemies, without effecting any good result.”

Nahli tells me a strange tale of the audacity of the wolves. A certain

Mr. Geoffroi (a French subject residing in Mersina) and some others, had

a flock of 104 choice sheep feeding in the plain close to Mersina, on the

east side of the town. The usual guard of dogs and shepherds was with

them. No one could have supposed them in danger from wild animals; but

about a week ago a troop of fourteen or fifteen wolves came down from the

mountains in the night, drove off the dogs, and in a very few minutes

killed twenty-six of the sheep, and fearfully mangled many more. Some had

a portion of the tail—so large in the Karamanian sheep—torn away; others

had the throat bitten through. Out of the whole number, only about forty

escaped uninjured. The shepherds gave the alarm, great fires of straw

and brushwood were kindled, and a chase of the wolves began; but, though

many shots were fired at them, not one was killed. There is nothing, or

very little, to eat in the interior, as the flocks have perished, and the

wolves are pressed by hunger; but such an incursion as this was never

heard of before in Mersina. If they are so bold and fierce now, what will

they be in winter? Sometimes, although rarely, accidents occur—e.g. about

three winters ago, a Greek was devoured by wolves near the cemetery,

quite close to the town. There was deep snow in the mountains, and the

animals were fierce with hunger.

Whilst I was breakfasting with Nahli at the Greek restaurant, my former

interpreter, Hanna, came in. He was in no wise abashed, although he

slightly started back at first. When I reproached him for his bad

treatment of me, he defended himself; utterly denied that he had cheated

us; laid all the blame on my friend’s severity and harsh language to

him; said that his pay had been less than Nahli’s, and therefore he had

only done himself justice by going off with our money. In short, he is

an impudent rascal, and, from what I now hear of his character, capable

of any bad action; so I was well rid of him (and, indeed, I have often

thought how easy it would have been to do me some serious mischief in one

of those out-of-the-way places in the interior; no one would have ever

been the wiser, and the people here tell me that this man is perfectly

capable of such a deed. I may have done him wrong by admitting such a

thought, but here he bears a very bad character). Hanna did, however,

admit that he had not acted well in leaving me in a strange place, with

the care of the poor sick patient. I had the barren satisfaction of

telling him, before all the company, and in the most concise and forcible

terms I could use, that he was dishonest and untruthful; but he took it

all with the utmost equanimity, and only smiled. Said Nahli, as we went

out, “Did you ever notice what round eyes Hanna has? We have a proverb in

Turkish, ‘Beware of a man with round eyes.’” As we left the restaurant,

the Greeks and Syrians present gathered round him to hear his account

of the matter. About two hours after this, I met him in the street, and

he saluted me very politely. I could not help laughing at the fellow’s

impudence. But, with all that, I believe I unwittingly escaped a very

serious risk when Hanna left me at Adana; and I could not have fallen in

with a more agreeable and more honourable man, and one at the same time

better adapted for a travelling companion in these countries, than my

good friend Nahli Sabbagh.

Nahli rode out with me to Boloukli in the evening. He wished to show me

the hot springs at Ichma, but the place lay some little distance out of

our way, and I preferred to go quietly to Boloukli, being too wearied

and indifferent to explore any more at present. My horse is in very bad

condition, owing to hard work and insufficient food, but I have sold him

for T. 10_l._ to a good master. He has served me well. I bought him for

T. 12½_l._, and I have ridden him throughout the whole journey. He has

never once stumbled; never been sick; has borne the longest and most

difficult marches (often with very insufficient food) with the utmost

fire and spirit; in short, it was a fortunate purchase. On the other

hand, he could never agree with other horses, and his fierce pugnacity

often caused us much trouble.

_July 31st._—To my great joy, saw the French mail steamer coming up

to the anchorage soon after daybreak. Being now sure of the means of

departure, I can telegraph home.

Again and again, as we rode across the plain into Mersina, I turned

to look once more at that stately line of heights which walls in the

lowlands.

Never, probably, again shall I visit this country, but to the last day of

my life I shall retain a vivid recollection of its entrancing beauty and

absorbing interest. Yet beautiful and interesting though it be, it has

many dangers. Not the least of these is its climate, and I carried away

with me the seeds of a dangerous fever, which at one time threatened the

most serious consequences, and which, during nearly a year after I had

left Cilicia, prostrated me again and again.

This was entirely due to the delay in the plain, for I was in good

health, and cared little for fatigue, privation, and exposure when I

descended from the mountains; and could I have left Cilicia at once, I

should no doubt have escaped these unpleasant consequences. But a few

days’ stay in the deadly air and heat of the lowlands during summer is

enough to break down the strongest.

Herr Haberhauer, a veteran traveller, and a strong, robust man, suffered

as much as myself. “Ah,” he said to me, one day, “we are both blackened

now by the sun; but if we stay here a few days more in this damp heat, we

shall be bleached.”

In the course of the morning I sent off a telegram to England. The line

through Koniah was occupied in transmitting Government messages; but the

chief of the telegraph, a young Greek, most kindly sent my telegram to a

friend at Diàrbekìr, with a request that he would forward it immediately.

While I was still waiting in the office, a reply was received from

Diàrbekìr that it had been safely received, and had been sent on at once

to Pera.

The telegram, which was in English, was thus sent back from Cilicia

to the frontiers of Mesopotamia, and thence through Constantinople to

England. It was duly received at its destination the same afternoon,

and correctly, excepting that the address was given wrongly by the

telegraphic agent in the place to which it was addressed, who wrote

“Muscat,” and then “Messina,” till, on reference to London, the correct

name was given, “Mersina.”

I had felt unwell all day, and on going to the office of the Messageries

to take my passage for Marseilles I was seized with a sudden chill and

shivering, and forced to go back to my lodgings. At about six o’clock

I was well enough to proceed to the ship. Although she lay only about

400 yards from the shore, the boatmen would not take me off under two

medjidiehs (8_s._). They laughingly declared that “it was not every day

they had the chance of meeting an European ‘hawaja,’ and I must pay!” All

these boatmen, and indeed almost all the labouring people of Mersina, are

Arabs of Syria. Arrived at the ‘Ilyssus,’ I bade Nahli a hearty farewell.

A good-natured Turk—one of the passengers on board—carried my baggage

up the ladder, for I was too weak to do it myself, and none of the crew

seemed inclined to do it—and, adieu Mersina.

_August 1st._—Towards sundown the ‘Ilyssus’ left her anchorage. The

whole expanse of plain between the mountains and the sea was covered by

a curtain of deep blue and silvery haze, which in places mounted like

the vapour of a furnace, and marked the extreme humidity of the air. It

seemed to throw a soft, mysterious veil over the deeper purple of the

hills and nearer heights, and set off in strong contrast the rich orange

tones of the higher ranges, still coloured by the setting sun. As our

ship stood out to sea, the rose-tinted cones of Harpalik and Metdesis,

the loftiest snow peaks of Bulghar Dagh, were faintly outlined against

the sky, till evening slowly faded into night, and the long line of

colonnade at Pompeiopolis could be just distinguished as we came abreast

of the old city, the last object on which my eyes rested in this lovely,

but dangerous, land.

The ship was crowded with Syrians from Beyrout and the coast towns,

escaping from the cholera; and the ex-Pasha of Bagdad, with his suite,

was on board _en route_ for Constantinople. Half the quarter-deck was

curtained off for the women and children of the party.

The Pasha had brought with him several of the fine white Hedjazi donkeys,

and some tolerably good horses, but none equal to five or six Arab horses

from the Syrian desert, exported from Alexandretta by an English officer,

Captain Upton, who had purchased them from (I think) the Anazi tribe.

He had been obliged to go nearly to the river Euphrates before he could

obtain any, and had paid high prices for these. I never saw any horses

with so broad a forehead between the eyes, or with such deep jaws.

Though rather small, they were beautifully formed, and the eye was very

lustrous and intelligent.

In about thirty hours from Mersina we came to Rhodes. We had been in

sight of the highlands of Karamania for nearly the whole distance,

and the night before were near enough in shore to see an immense

conflagration in the forest.

The voyage was most tedious; we were three days in quarantine at Vourla

(Klazomenæ), (not being permitted to approach Smyrna). We could not, of

course, land at Messina or Palermo. The heat, though not so great as in

Cilicia, was still most oppressive, and I was laid up half the voyage,

from fever.

Arrived at Marseilles, we were placed in quarantine for four days in the

Island of Frioul, and finally released on August 17th, when I hastened

homewards towards the north.

What an immense change has come over the Ottoman Empire since I left

Cilicia!

What unutterable misery has been brought upon its people!

Is there a heart so hard, as not to feel deep commiseration for the

poor victims, Christian and Muslim, of that Nineteenth Century Crusade,

that “more than knightly mission” of a cruel, treacherous, hypocritical

despotism?

Doubtless, the inscrutable wisdom of the Most High is visiting on the

Osmanli people the many and deadly sins of its ancestors. National

punishment follows inevitably upon national sin; but in our just

detestation of the evil Osmanli _Government_, let it not be forgotten

that there is also an unfortunate Osmanli _people_, and let us not

exclude _them_ from our human sympathies.

The vast majority of _them_, at least, contributed nothing to the causes

which led to the late atrocious war; _they_ could exercise no influence

on the march of events!

And if the Osmanlis are suffering in great measure for the sins of their

fathers, must we not also believe that in His own time the justice of

the Almighty will bring to judgment that system of organized hypocrisy

and cruelty—that incarnation of brute force and injustice—the Russian

Government and the Russian Imperial rule?

The poet’s words are as true of nations as of individuals—

“Raro antecedentem scelestum

Deseruit pede Pæna claudo.”

CONDITION OF THE MUSLIM PEASANT IN ASIATIC TURKEY.

It might be supposed from the complaints of certain English orators,

that the Muslims _as a class_ systematically oppressed the rayahs _as

a class_. So far as my own experience extends, this is not the case.

Both classes suffer alike: both have to bear the burden of a corrupt and

immoral bureaucracy; both are crushed under a taxation which, though in

itself not excessive, is, compared with their resources, most burdensome.

Certainly the rayah, besides the very real and tangible grievances which

he has in common with his Muslim fellow-subjects, has also grievances of

his own (e.g. he is practically excluded for the most part from State

employ), and grievances too of sentiment; but in most _essential_ points

he is on the same footing as the Muslim; and not once, but several times,

Christians in the interior of Karamania have admitted to me that the

Central Government _at least tried_ to act justly towards both classes

alike.

The misfortune is that so much depends on the character of provincial

governors, and of the leading members in the provincial councils

(medjlis), for these give the tone to the administration. If such

administration as that of Midhat Pasha in Bulgaria was more common,

less would be heard of complaint against the Central Government;

unfortunately, such governors are very rare. Such grievances, however,

can hardly be cured by mere legislation, but the natural course of events

is gradually removing them. The Greek and Armenian Christians, for

instance, are rapidly rising in numbers, wealth, and education, while the

Muslim is stationary, or even falling back, in these respects, and this

in a short time must have an effect.

Turkey is essentially agricultural and pastoral. Her manufactures

are inconsiderable, and constantly diminishing under the influence

of European imports. But she is a vast producer of raw material. Her

climate and much of her soil are magnificent, but she has neither the

population nor the capital requisite for developing the gifts of nature.

Immigration—the grand resource of all under-peopled countries—is for her

impracticable. European colonization on a small scale has been tried,

and failed; immigration of Europeans on a large scale would be dangerous

while Europeans can claim at pleasure foreign support and enjoy special

immunities such as no other class in the empire possesses.

The State is in theory the owner of the land in Turkey, and any land

lying uncultivated for five years, reverts _ipso facto_ to the State,

and can be granted afresh. Even Europeans can obtain land by submitting

to the same conditions as the natives, and renouncing (in so far as

they become landowners) the special privileges secured to them by the

Capitulations.

But though the experiment has been often tried by private individuals,

it has never succeeded; sooner or later the European landowner has been

obliged from one cause or other to retire, often with heavy loss.

Nor must it be assumed that there is an unlimited quantity of waste land

capable of cultivation. At least one-fourth of the surface of Anatolia,

and much more in Karamania, never can be utilized except as pasture

land. No doubt such districts as the great plain of Cilicia, and many

of the river valleys, contain much waste land, and would easily support

threefold their present population, but their climate is unhealthy; even

the natives prefer the poorer mountain lands to the rich soil of these

plains. How, then, could the European colonist thrive, or even live in

such positions?

What the population of Asiatic Turkey is, can only be guessed. I have

heard the most ludicrous discrepancies in the estimates made by Turkish

officials as to the population even of the town in which they lived,

and a census is impossible. It is supposed, however, that the Muslim

population of Asiatic Turkey exceeds the rayah by at least tenfold.

It is therefore on the former that the great amount of the State burdens

fall. There is no difference in the taxes paid by these classes, for, be

it remembered, it is not the _man_, nor even the _land_, but the _crop_,

which pays, and the days are nearly past when a pasha or Government

official could plunder, imprison, or put to death with impunity, the

provincials subject to his rule. Still less will such deeds be possible

in future should the Turkish parliament begin to exercise an influence in

the State. And even already the much-reviled Khatti Humayoon has secured

a great deal for the rayah.

The backbone of the State, then, is the Muslim peasant, holding his land

directly from the Government, or cultivating in partnership the land of

another, somewhat on the “metayer” system.

In general the peasant is miserably poor, for in the first place he is

not industrious. His wants are few, and neither the climate nor his

surroundings tend to render him enterprising. Partly from these reasons,

partly from lack of skill, of capital, and want of communications with

the outside world, he does not draw from his land nearly as much as he

might. At least a third of his arable land must lie fallow every year.

At intervals of a few years, drought ruins his crop—this is a constantly

recurring trouble; his son is drafted as a conscript into the army (a

fate which the rayah avoids, or has avoided hitherto, at the moderate

cost of from five to ten shillings per annum); the Government inexorably

exacts its dues. Too often, sooner or later, the unfortunate peasant is

obliged to resort to the money-lender (who is nearly always a Christian,

for his religion forbids the Muslim to lend money on interest), and then

his fate is sealed!

Even when the seasons are favourable, and the harvest abundant, this is

of no permanent benefit to him; the Osmanli never seems to accumulate

capital; he lives from hand to mouth; his surplus resources (if any) are

never expended on some remunerative undertaking. A pilgrimage to Mecca

on a larger scale than usual, a new wife, or some such folly, speedily

absorbs all his profits, and then when the pinch comes, there is nothing

between him and want. This was abundantly proved during the great famine

year of 1873-74.

The Government taxes him, but does almost nothing for him. There are not

a dozen roads in the empire; and though a heavy debt has been contracted,

there is very little internal improvement to show for it. Still it would

be unjust to lay all the blame upon the Government. The character and

spirit of the people, their prevailing form of religion, their unhappy

political position, and the accumulated evils of centuries of misrule,

all, in various degrees, tend to make the Ottoman empire what it is—a

scandal to civilization, and a constant source of trouble to Europe.

The Asiatic provinces of Turkey, then, are inhabited by a population,

poor and unenterprising, but sober, peaceful, hospitable, religious,

loyal even to a fault—and this last virtue is one of the greatest

obstacles to their progress. The Padshàh is not only the head of the

State, but the head of their religion also. What is done in his name is

accepted with implicit submission. They may suffer, but they submit!

Of late, however, the abuses of the Government are beginning to wear

out even their patience, and in conversation with some of the more

intelligent, I have heard the opinion freely expressed that the only

persons who benefited by the present state of things were some few

thousand officials and others at Stamboul. But I never heard the least

complaint against the Sultan personally. “The Padshàh is good!” “The

Padshàh does not know all this.” “If only the Padshàh knew,” &c., &c.

Such are the excuses made for the head of the Government. We may smile at

this unreasoning loyalty, but there it is, a great fact, unfortunately,

for the well-being of the people themselves. It must not be supposed that

they are wanting in spirit, but their religion teaches them to look

upon the Sultan as the vicegerent of Allah, and this is really the great

obstacle to revolution. Were they subject to a Christian Government to

which their religion did not bind them to yield passive obedience, they

would certainly never submit to similar treatment.

Much has been made of the supposed fanaticism of the Muslim population,

and certainly there are districts of the empire where, owing to the

opposition of races, the fiercest bigotry is at times displayed, as,

e.g., in Damascus, and some other portions of Northern Syria. Amongst

certain of the official class also, and the well-to-do tradesmen and

merchants, there is much of the old jealousy and hatred of Christians,

but this sentiment is far from common. It may exist, but it is dormant,

if not dying out.

It is true that neither the people nor the Government approve of

conversions from Islam to Christianity, and in fact they are exceedingly

uncommon (while on the other hand conversions to Islam are not uncommon,

though due almost always to some bad or mean motive); but is it such an

unheard-of thing, even in Europe, that converts should suffer in some

respects when they change their profession of faith? But further, even as

compared with many of the Christian Governments of Europe, the Turkish

Government is singularly tolerant. Every sect is allowed the free and

unrestrained exercise of its public worship, and may possess property

and administer its internal affairs without hindrance or interference

from the Government, unless internal dissensions render such interference

necessary. Even such bodies as the Protestant communities throughout

the empire are gradually obtaining an official recognition, which has

only been delayed hitherto because the Government requires that every

religious community should have a recognized official head, and the Porte

could not at first comprehend a Church without a patriarch or some such

ecclesiastical chief.

Amidst the many grievous defects and faults of the Ottoman Government,

let us at least give it credit for its toleration in religious matters.

It is not so very long ago since we ourselves passed the Catholic

Emancipation Act; and as compared with Russia, Spain—even with France—the

Government of the Sultan has no reason to be ashamed of its legislation

and practice in matters ecclesiastical.

The principal taxes of the Turkish empire are—(1) The dîme, or tithe of

the crops (really 12½ per cent.). (2) The “vergui” or “salyan,” a kind of

property tax, which, being arbitrary, and arranged between the Government

officials and the leading members of the village council, is often the

means of much oppression. (3) The sheep tax, of 2½ piastres (about 6_d._)

per annum for each head of sheep or goats, in return for which they have

the right of pasturage on the Government lands. (4) The “timùttaa,” an

income tax of 3 per cent. on the annual gains or revenue of each person;

even the poorest is obliged to pay this. This tax is estimated by the

town council. The lowest amount accepted is 7½ piastres; but it is

usually fixed at a very low rate. (5) “Imlak,” a property tax on houses,

magazines, &c., founded on the saleable value of the property. This is

fixed by the Government through the town council. A man who occupies his

own house pays only 4 piastres per cent. on the value. If the property

be let, the percentage is much higher; the valuation is, however, low,

and of course there are ways of arranging matters. (6) “Import and export

duties,” respectively 8 and 1 per cent. on the value of the merchandise.

Usually the estimate of value is low. (7) The tobacco duty, which is

fast destroying the culture of tobacco. Several of the villagers who

used to grow large quantities of tobacco have told me that, so great was

the annoyance and loss caused by the arbitrary method of levying the

tax, that they intended to abandon the cultivation. The farmers of the

tax examine the growing crop, make an estimate of the probable produce,

and on this the amount of the tax is fixed. Often the crop falls short

of the estimate, yet the amount is exacted. Endless, in short, are the

vexations connected with this tax. (8) The “bedeliyeh,” or exemption tax

from military service—established after the Crimean war in place of the

“kharaj,” or capitation tax—paid only by Christians, and amounting to

from 5_s._ to 10_s._ per annum.

Of all these taxes, two only—the dîme and the “vergui”—much affect the

peasant. The import duties scarcely touch him; so few are his wants, that

hardly anything foreign is consumed by him except coffee and calico.

His clothing is mostly of home manufacture, and in many districts the

women spin a coarse but durable cotton cloth. His household furniture is

simple even to bareness—no chairs, no tables, no knives and forks, no

crockery, no glass. A few cushions stuffed with cotton, and some quilted

coverlets, form his bedding. He sits, sleeps, and eats upon the floor.

His plates and dishes are of copper, and last a lifetime. The few and

simple agricultural implements he employs are of home manufacture; his

plough is of wood, for he never ploughs more than a few inches deep.

Nearly every article of iron work that he uses is manufactured in the

country; and some of the towns in the interior (e.g. Marash) turn out

very good work in iron, and in native cloth; others excel in leather

work, and the current prices of these articles are surprisingly low.

Scarcely any machinery is imported. Production is slow and cumbrous, for

nearly everything is made by hand; yet some special articles are of an

excellence and finish not to be attained in Europe.

The frugality of his diet is unexampled. His drink is water or coffee;

wine or spirits he would not touch, even had he the opportunity. His

chief food is unleavened bread of rye, barley, or mixed wheat and barley.

Meat he does not eat once in twelve months. Whilst he had a flock, milk

formed the chief item of his food; but since the loss of the flocks even

that has been cut off in great part. In short, the Turkish peasant has

reduced the expense of living to a minimum; it would not be possible to

live at all on less!

Much has been said and written touching the resources of Turkey, and the

chief items indicated are the mines of the country, its forests, and its

waste lands.

As to the last, I have before said that the waste lands which can be

utilized are, after all, less extensive than would be supposed; and even

of them the best portion is unsuited to the European. But whence could

the requisite skill and capital come, except from Europe? from what other

quarter can immigration be looked for?

No doubt the mines are valuable, but mines are chiefly of value as

supplying materials for manufacturing industry. Mines that can only

be worked by foreigners cannot add very materially to the wealth of a

country. Moreover, European mining enterprises in Turkey have not often

succeeded.

Last, as to the forests, no doubt it would be easy, and very profitable

for the moment, to sell or lease the forests to foreign companies; but

when the mountains had been bared of their wood—which would soon be

brought about—the effect both upon the climate and the population could

not fail to be disastrous. Nor would much be gained by clearing the

land. The great mountain ranges of the south are covered with forest

that extends almost without a break from Adana nearly to Smyrna, and

again eastwards round the great plain of Cilicia almost to Alexandretta;

but the soil is rocky—only a small portion of it could ever be

cultivated—much of it, indeed, is covered with three or four feet of snow

for a large part of the year.

The great resource of Turkey, after all, is her agriculture, and the

mainstay of her agriculture is the Muslim peasant. The essential point,

therefore, is to improve the condition of the poor down-stricken

agriculturists of the interior, by urging economy at Constantinople, by

helping to open up the country through roads and railways—above all,

by ceasing to advance loans, which even now would probably be only

squandered, and can but increase the burdens and miseries of a population

that is already almost crushed to the very earth.

(Since writing the above, two articles have appeared in the

‘Nineteenth Century Review’ for August and October, 1878—viz.

“The People of India” and “The Bankruptcy of India.” If the

statements in them be correct—which I presume there is no

reason to doubt—it is evident that a very sad state of things

exists in one of our own dependencies, and that even our own

Government is not quite blameless as regards its treatment of

the millions of Indian cultivators under its sway.)

THE ARMENIAN KINGS OF CILICIA.

The commencement of the Roupenian line of kings who ruled Lesser

Armenia, comprising Cilicia and portions of the neighbouring provinces

of Cappadocia and Isauria, dates from A.D. 1080. Gagik, the last king

of Armenia Major, was assassinated in the fortress of Kizistra by the

Byzantines. Roupen or Reuben, one of his relatives, escaped to Cilicia,

and being aided by the Armenians who were settled there, began to make

war upon the Greeks. In 1086 the Greeks were driven out of Armenia by

Malik, Shah of Persia. He treated the Armenians well, but upon his death

the Persians began to oppress them, and many emigrated to Cilicia. Roupen

was succeeded by

CONSTANTINE I. (1095 A.D.). His reign was a continual series of wars with

the Byzantines. The first Crusade took place in A.D. 1096. Constantine

assisted the Crusaders, and after the capture of Antioch, was made by

them a knight and marquis. Constantine was succeeded by his son

TOROS I. (A.D. 1100). Attacked in turns by all his powerful neighbours,

Toros maintained the independence of his country. He captured Anazarba

from the Byzantines, and made it his capital. In 1108 the Persians

invaded Cilicia, but were repulsed. In 1110 the Tartars also invaded

Cilicia, but without success. Toros captured and punished the murderers

of Gagik. He was succeeded by his brother

LEO I. (A.D. 1123), who also made war on the Byzantines and captured

“Mamestu” (Mopsuestia). In 1130 Leo was treacherously taken prisoner by

Baldwin of Antioch, and obliged to surrender Mamestu, Adana, and the

fortress “Sarwand,” and to pay a ransom of 60,000 gold pieces. On his

release, however, he made war on the Latins and recovered his cities. A

peace was at last mediated by Jocelyn of Edessa.

In consequence of Leo’s encroachments on Isauria, the Greek emperor,

John Comnenus Porphyrogenitus, invaded Cilicia with a great army,

before which Leo was forced to retreat. The Greeks captured Tarsus,

Adana, and Mamestu. They laid siege to Anazarba, and after thirty-seven

days captured it by assault, but they suffered fearful losses, and the

garrison cut their way out. Vahkah, a fortress to the north of Sis, and

which had been the first seat of the Roupenian thakavors, was captured.

Leo at last was blockaded in the mountains, and forced to surrender. He

was sent to Constantinople, and imprisoned with his wife and sons. The

Armenian troops were driven from Cilicia, and 12,000 Greek troops left in

it in 1137. The captives were well treated by the emperor, and released

from prison for a season, but Leo was again imprisoned, and died in

confinement. Thereupon Toros was released and kept near the emperor.

John Comnenus died in 1142, and was succeeded by Manuel Comnenus. Upon

this Toros secretly fled to Cilicia, and concealed himself in the

mountains.

TOROS II. (1142 A.D.) headed a revolt of the Armenians against the

Greeks. Captured Vahkah, Amuda, Adana, Sis, and Anazarba. The Emperor

Manuel then sent Andronicus, his general, with a great army under orders

to extirpate the Armenians. But the Greek army suffered a terrible

defeat, in one of the passes of Mount Taurus.

About this time the Tartars began to attack the Armenians of Cilicia,

but were on several occasions repulsed. A long desultory war continued

between the Greeks and Armenians. Toros died in A.D. 1167, and was

succeeded by his brother

MILEH I. as regent to the young son of Toros. At the end of the first

year of his regency he dethroned the son of Toros, but after a reign

of five years he was killed by his own troops. He was succeeded by the

nephew of Toros,

ROUPEN II. (1172 A.D.). The war between the Greeks and Armenians

continued, and Roupen recovered Tarsus and Amuda, which had again fallen

into the hands of the Byzantines. In 1183 Roupen was treacherously

captured by Bohemond of Antioch, but released, and after a reign of

eleven years he abdicated, and was succeeded by his brother

LEO II. (A.D. 1183). He extended his dominion beyond the Taurus. This

king rebuilt Sis and made it his capital, but he resided alternately at

Sis and Tarsus. The Sultan of Iconium having attacked him, he defeated

the Seljouks, invaded and conquered great part of Isauria, and attacked

Syria.

In 1189 occurred the Crusade of the German Emperor Frederic Barbarossa.

The Crusaders were assisted by the Armenians, but the Emperor Frederic

was drowned in the Calycadnus at Seleucia (Selefke). The emperor had

promised to crown Leo; and Henry, son of Frederic Barbarossa, performed

the promise, by inducing Pope Celestine to send a crown, and Conrad,

Archbishop of Moguntia (Mayence), to perform the ceremony. The emperor

also sent to Leo a standard, on which was represented a “lion rampant.”

Henceforward the kings of Armenia bore this as their device instead of

the ancient device, “the eagle, dove, and dragon.” A close connection

with the Latins ensued, and the king married successively two Latin

princesses. He continued to resist successfully the Iconians and the

Muslims of Aleppo under Kaikayuz and the son of the Sultan Nour-ed-din.

In 1207, however, dissensions arose between Leo and the Latins, and in

consequence he expelled all Latins from Cilicia. Leo died in 1219, and

was buried at Sis. He was succeeded by his daughter

ZABEL, who had married a Latin, Philip; but the latter was divorced, and

the queen dethroned, and married to

HETHOUM I. The reign of this king was one long series of sufferings and

disasters. The great inroads of Zengis Khan caused vast disturbances over

the whole East. Jellal-ed-din, Sultan of Persia, had been driven from

Persia by the Tartars, and on the death of Zengis, Jellal-ed-din made a

successful attack on Iconium, but all the Seljouk and Turkman chiefs of

Asia Minor, combined against him and defeated him. The Tartars invaded

Armenia and Cilicia, and the Iconians again attacked Hethoum, but were

repulsed.

In 1260 the sultans of Egypt began to attack Palestine, and many people

of Palestine fled into Cilicia. Hethoum, fearing to be attacked, made

his submission to the Tartar chiefs Mango Khan and Houlagou, and allied

himself with them, but this did not save him from the vengeance of the

Egyptians, and in 1265 Cilicia was invaded by the terrible Beybars

Bundoukdar. The Armenian army was defeated, Toros, younger son of the

king, was killed; Leo, the elder, taken prisoner, and the Egyptians laid

waste the entire country, but they were unable to capture the fortresses.

Leo was kindly treated by Beybars, and eventually released by him. In

1269 Hethoum abdicated, and was succeeded by his son

LEO III., an amiable but unfortunate king. Beybars again invaded Cilicia

and captured Tarsus. But he was defeated by a sudden attack of Leo. Next

the Iconians and Muslim chiefs of Lycaonia invaded Cilicia; Leo repulsed

them, and in his turn invaded Lycaonia. Leo died in 1289, and was

succeeded by his son

HETHOUM II. (1289 A.D.), a very devout prince. Cilicia was invaded by

Melik el Ashraf, Sultan of Egypt, but he was forced to return by a revolt

in Egypt. Kaitbey, his successor, made peace with Hethoum, who abdicated

in favour of his brother

TOROS III. (A.D. 1293). He also abdicated, and persuaded Hethoum to

reign again. The two brothers paid a visit to their sister Mary, who was

married at Constantinople, to Michael, son of the Emperor Andronicus.

Their brother Sempad, who had been left regent during the absence of the

king, revolted, and the two brothers on their return from Constantinople

were driven out by Sempad, and forced to take refuge with a Tartar

khan, Gazan, who slew Toros and blinded Hethoum. Constantine, another

brother, revolted against Sempad, dethroned and imprisoned him, and

released Hethoum, who after two years recovered his sight; Constantine

acting in the interim as regent. Hethoum was again obliged to reign,

but Constantine having begun to raise revolt, he and Sempad were sent

to Constantinople and imprisoned for life by the Greek emperor. The

Egyptians and Syrians of Damascus attacked Hethoum, but were repulsed.

Hethoum adopted his nephew, Leo, and abdicated in his favour.

LEO IV. (A.D. 1305). Dissensions arose amongst the Armenians about Church

ceremonies and theological matters. The disaffected party persuaded

Bilargu, a Tartar chief, who had 1000 Tartar troops garrisoning Anazarba

for Hethoum, to kill both him and Leo. The Tartars, however, were

expelled from Cilicia. Leo was succeeded by

AUCHIN I., youngest brother of Hethoum (A.D. 1308). The Sultan of Egypt,

El Melek en Nasr, invaded Cilicia, but was defeated. Auchin died in 1320,

and was succeeded by his young son

LEO V. (1320 A.D.), under the regency of Auchin Païl. The regent captured

Tyre, and imprisoned the sister of the late king, who was widow of the

Count of Tyre. The Sultan En-Nasr again invaded Cilicia, and laid siege

to Baias or Aias; but the Egyptians were defeated. They laid siege a

second time to Baias, and captured it. Cilicia was laid waste by the

Egyptians and Iconians. On the retirement of the Egyptian army, help was

asked from the Latins, and in revenge En-Nasr determined to extirpate

the Armenians. This, the third great invasion of the Egyptians, was the

most terrible of all. The very tombs were opened, and the dead bodies

cast forth, and the whole face of the land devastated in the most awful

manner. Adana and other cities were captured, and 20,000 Armenians

carried prisoners to Egypt. No help could be obtained from the Pope or

the Europeans, but aid was promised by the Tartar khan, Abou Said, upon

which En-Nasr made peace. Leo put to death Auchin Païl, and his brother

Constantine. In 1334, on report of another Crusade, the Egyptian sultan

determined to attack the Armenians again; but as there was a truce

between him and Leo for fifteen years, En-Nasr sent the Emir of Aleppo

into Cilicia, who in 1335 again laid the country waste. Leo, unable to

resist, shut himself up in the fortresses. In 1337 another inroad of the

Egyptians took place, but En-Nasr made peace on condition Leo should

never again ask help from the Europeans. Leo, however, broke his oath,

and the Egyptians once more attacked him, but the bishops and chiefs

insisted on all intercourse with Europeans being abandoned. Leo died in

1342, and was succeeded by his cousin Johannes, who took the title of

CONSTANTINE, a man of a dissolute character and violent temper. He

quarrelled with the chiefs, and endeavoured to make the Armenian Church

conform to the Roman Church. After a reign of one year, he was killed by

his troops, who had mutinied. He was succeeded by his brother Guido, who

became king in 1343.

GUIDO (1343). The dissensions of the Armenians rendered them an easy

prey to the Egyptians, who plundered and ravaged the country almost

without resistance. Guido gave all power and office to Latins, he chose

all the governors of his fortresses from them, and endeavoured to force

the Armenian Church into conformity with the Roman Church. But in 1345 a

conspiracy was formed against him, and he was killed. He was succeeded by

another Constantine, not of the Roupenian line.

CONSTANTINE II. (1345). He had some communications with the Pope and the

western Europeans, and thereupon the Egyptians determined to extirpate

the Armenians, so as to prevent all further trouble from Europe. But

though the king repulsed them, the country was reduced to a miserable

condition of distress and anarchy. The king died in 1363, and the Pope

exhorted the Armenians to union, and recommended them to elect for their

king, Leo Lucian, a relation of King Guido.

LEO LUCIAN (A.D. 1366), a good king, but fallen on very evil times. As

was always the case, the dissensions of the Armenians laid Cilicia open

to the attacks of the Egyptians. In 1371 they invaded the country, and

their ravages caused so terrible a famine, that in Sis a bushel of corn

cost 500 pieces of silver. In consequence of a revolution in Egypt, El

Ashraf Shaban became sultan, and he sent an army to attack Cilicia.

After a siege of two months, Sis was captured, the tombs of the Armenian

kings were opened, and their bodies burnt; the country was changed into

a complete wilderness; and the Egyptians committed the most horrible

cruelties. Leo was blockaded in the mountain fortress of Gaban, and after

nine months forced by famine to surrender. The captives were carried

to Cairo, their lives were spared, and even liberty offered to them on

condition of embracing El Islam, but this they refused to do, and were

therefore imprisoned.

The successor of El Ashraf, the Sultan Melik Mansour, made the same

offer, but the captives refused, and remained seven years in prison.

With the capture of Leo in 1375, the Armenian monarchy in Cilicia came

to an end. The country remained in possession of the Egyptians for some

time, and then passed into the hands of the Ottomans. On the death

of Melik Mansour, his brother Melik Saleh, a child of six years old,

succeeded, and Juan, king of Spain, by means of presents and ambassadors,

persuaded the council of the young sultan to release the Armenian royal

family in 1382; pledging himself that no future trouble to the Egyptians

should be given by them. Leo with his family being released, went to

Jerusalem to return thanks, and to visit the Holy Sepulchre. Thence they

went to Rome to visit the Pope, Urban VI.; afterwards they went to Spain.

During the war between France and England, Leo was sent with the Papal

legates to mediate. He tried to obtain help from the kings of France and

England, in order to recover Cilicia from the Mohammedans, but in vain.

He died at Paris in 1393, and was buried in the convent of the Celestins.

His queen, Mary, died at Jerusalem in 1405. From the capture of their

royal family by the Egyptians, the Armenians have been a wandering and

inglorious people, annihilated as a nation, and the fame of their old

renown is only known to the few who care to study their annals!

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

Mersina occupies the site of an ancient town, the name of which is not

known. The coast line along all this part of Karamania is full of ancient

ruins, attesting its former prosperity and populousness. Between the

present town and the river, to the west, is a wide space full of ancient

remains, fragments of pottery, bricks, bits of marble, &c. Texier says

Mersina is on the site of the ancient Zephyrium, but Forbiger[28] calls

Zephyrium “a tongue of land.”

Ritter[29] says: “Mersina is a small coast town, like Alexandretta,

but more picturesquely situated, and surrounded by orange gardens and

mulberry plantations. Near the quarantine station are some pretty country

houses of well-to-do people, especially of the Consuls at Tarsus. As

the commerce of the place has become more active, the open roadstead

is visited by many ships, especially French, although the sea-breeze

sometimes renders landing difficult, and even impossible, for several

days together. The marshy lowland exposes the inhabitants to dangerous

fevers, which are said to be generally cured by the application of

leeches. These are exported thence in great numbers to Europe. In order

to escape from the danger of the damp ground, people build themselves

airy wooden structures, resting on poles. Some Druses, driven away from

the Lebanon, have established here village settlements. A very good

carriage-road leads from this place to Tarsus.”

F. A. Neale, ‘Eight years in Syria, Palestine, and Asia Minor’[30]: “The

passage from Alexandretta to Mersine, the seaport of Tarsous, usually

occupies twenty-four hours. Mersine is a small village somewhat similar

in size to Alexandretta, though infinitely more picturesque. It abounds

with orange and mulberry trees, and herein consists its superiority

over Alexandretta; for in the latter place there is but one solitary

palm-tree to be seen. There is a neatly-built lazaretto, and close by are

three or four pretty summer houses, the property of gentlemen residing at

Tarsous, who resort hither during the hot weather. Mersine, though but

an open roadstead, is much frequented during the summer months by French

vessels, though even then, so soon as the sea breeze sets in, such a

surf gets up that frequently all landing operations have to be suspended

for a day or two. The town is twelve miles from Tarsous, but the road

is so excellent and level that one might easily drive all the way in a

carriage. Mersine is famous as a resort of the little bird called the

francolin, which is never disturbed except during two months of the year.”

SOLI, or POMPEIOPOLIS.—The ruins of Pompeiopolis are on the west side of

the little river Liparis (at present without a name); the site of Soli is

on the east side of the stream. According to some ancient authors, Soli

was founded by Argive colonists, who came to it from Cyprus. Afterwards

a Rhodian colony, and still later an Athenian colony, settled there, and

some of the coins of Soli bear the image of Athene, with an owl on the

reverse. Under the government of the satraps, placed there by the kings

of Persia, Soli became a very flourishing place.

During the invasion of Persia, Soli seems at first to have been severely

treated by Alexander: “Having recovered his health, Alexander sent

Pannemion to occupy the defiles which separate Cilicia from Syria. He

himself marched from Tarsus in one day to Anchialon. Thence he went on

to Soles, placed a garrison in the town, and, taking with him all his

cavalry and his light troops, he attacked the Cilicians of the mountains,

reduced them, either by force or arrangement, in the space of seven days,

and returned to Soles.”[31]

A little further on he again mentions Soli: “Alexander, having been

detained successively at Tarsus by his sickness, at Soles by the games

which he caused to be celebrated there when he heard of the success of

Asandros and Ptolemy in Caria, and in the mountains of Cilicia by his

expedition against the barbarians,” &c.

After describing the battle of Issus, he continues: “After the victory at

Issus, Balacros, son of Nicanor, was named Satrap of Cilicia; the town of

Soles obtained a remission of the fifty talents, which still remained of

the sum it had to pay, and its hostages were restored to it.[32]

“Soles showed itself grateful. During the siege of Tyre, three galleys of

Soles and of Mallus joined the fleet of Alexander.”[33]

Scarcely anything is known of the history of Soli under the Seleucidæ.

Tigranes, king of Armenia, in his wars against the last Seleucids,

ravaged Soli, and removed its inhabitants to his new capital,

Tigranocerta.

It was one of the penitentiary colonies in which Pompeius Magnus placed

such of the Cilician pirates as he thought fit to spare. The town had

decayed, probably in consequence of the Mithridatic war.[34]

Its port and colonnade (once consisting of 200 columns) are said to

have been constructed by Pompeius Magnus; but the architecture of the

colonnade marks a time of decadence, and rather resembles the style

usual in the age of the Antonines. Pompeiopolis was much injured by an

earthquake in the reign of Justinian, A.D. 528, and was restored by that

emperor.

Sir F. Beaufort, in his ‘Karamania,’ says:—

“At length the elevated theatre and tall columns of Soli, or

Pompeiopolis, rose above the horizon into view, and appeared to justify

the representation which the pilots had given of its magnificence. We

were not altogether disappointed. The first object that presented itself

on landing was a beautiful harbour or basin, with parallel sides and

circular ends. It is entirely artificial, being formed by surrounding

walls or moles, which are fifty feet in thickness and seven in height.

They are constructed of rubble, bedded in a strong cement, but faced

and covered with blocks of yellowish, shelly limestone, which have been

clamped together with iron dovetails.

“Opposite to the entrance of the harbour a portico rises from the

surrounding quay, and opens to a double row of 200 columns, which,

crossing the town, communicates with the principal gate towards the

country, and from the outside of that gate a paved road continues in the

same line to a bridge over a small river. At the end next the harbour

there are indications of the two rows of columns having been united by

arches; and possibly the whole colonnade was once a covered street,

which, with the avenue, the portico, and the harbour, must have formed

a noble spectacle. Even in its present state of wreck the effect of the

whole was so imposing, that the most illiterate seaman in the ship could

not behold it without emotion. The columns, however, taken singly, do not

appear to much advantage.

“As there are no inhabitants within the walls of Pompeiopolis, we found

great difficulty in ascertaining its proper modern appellation. Three

different names were collected.... ‘Mezetlu,’ however, united the

greatest number of suffrages.”

TARSUS.—One of the most ancient cities in the world. It is mentioned

in the list of Asiatic cities conquered by Rhamses III. (nineteenth

dynasty). The traditions of its foundation mount to the mythological

ages of Greek history, but its real founders were probably Assyrian.

One tradition assigns its foundation to Triptolemus, who had been

sent by the Pelasgic king, Inachus, to search for his daughter, Io.

Ammian says: “Ciliciam vero, quæ Cydno amne exsultat, Tarsus nobilitat,

urbs perspicabilis (hanc condidisse Perseus memoratur, Jovis filius

et Danäes—vel certe ex Ethiopia profectus SANDAN quidem nomine, vir

opulentus et nobilis),” &c.[35]

Two derivations of the name “Tarsus” have been given: (1) From the

verb τερσομαι, “to become dry,” ταρσός, “dry.” (2) ταρσός, “any flat

surface,” “the flat part of a foot,” “the flat of a wing.” The latter

derivation refers to the feather from the wing of Pegasus, or to the hoof

of Pegasus, which was broken by his alighting. But the former derivation

seems preferable; and, indeed, the plain around Tarsus has evidently, at

some former period, been a great marsh.

The latest settlement at Tarsus was of an Argive colony, and with this is

connected the mythical hero Perseus. The presence of an Assyrian colony

is indicated by the tradition which marks out the curious monument called

the “Dunuk Tash” as the tomb of Sardanapalus, an Assyrian king. (It is,

however, just possible—at least, judging from the passage in Ammian

quoted above—that this mysterious monument may have had a non-Assyrian

origin.) However this may be, no satisfactory account of its origin has

as yet been given, nor has it been possible satisfactorily to establish

any connection between the founder of the monument and any one of the

Assyrian kings known under the name “Sardanapalus,” although M. L’Anglois

has a long dissertation on it in his ‘Cilicie.’ Texier writes thus: “Les

historiens Grecs et Latins qui ont fait mention de la fondation de Tarse,

citent une inscription célèbre qui était (croyaient-ils) placée sur le

tombeau de Sardanapale. ‘Sardanapale, fils d’Anaxynderax, a bâti Tarse et

Anchiale en un jour. Passant, mange, bois, ris; le reste ne vaut rien.’”

(The translation of Texier is in some parts erroneous, e.g. of “παίζε.”)

This inscription is mentioned by Strabo, xiv. 672; Arrian, ‘Exped.

Alexandri,’ ii. 5; Cicero, ‘Tuscul.’ v. 35.

It is possible that some light may be thrown on the point by future

Assyrian discoveries.

The late G. Smith’s curious and learned work, ‘History of Assurbanipal,’

does not help to clear up the riddle of the so-called tomb of

Sardanapalus. Mr. Smith arrives at the conclusion that Assurbanipal is

_not_ that Sardanapalus under whom the Assyrian empire was overthrown.

He says (p. 324): “Assurbanipal reigned forty-two years and died in

the year B.C. 626, when he was succeeded by his son ‘Assur-ebil-ili,’

or ‘Assur-ebil-ili-Kainni,’ of whose history we know nothing. It is

generally supposed that under him the Assyrian empire was overthrown.”

History is completely silent as to the fortunes of Tarsus under its

dynasty of Assyrian or native kings. But like all Western Asia, it fell

under the power of the Persian monarchy. Perhaps Cilicia rendered only a

partial obedience to the Great king, for it seems to have been governed

sometimes by kings, at other times by Persian satraps, and, as many

medals of these rulers are extant, we must conclude that it enjoyed a

certain degree of independence, for the kings of Persia always regarded

with the utmost jealousy the privilege of coining money (e.g. the history

of Aryandes Satrap of Egypt, as given by Herodotus).

At the time of the expedition of Cyrus, the king of Cilicia was

Syennesis. Incapable of resisting the invader, he sent his queen, Epyaxa,

to meet Cyrus. She accompanied the army till it reached Iconium, in

Lycaonia. Thence the queen was sent back by the shortest route into

Cilicia (probably by one of the passes to the west of the Pylæ Ciliciæ).

Cyrus himself seems to have entered Cilicia by this latter pass.

According to Xenophon, near Dana (Tyana), a rich city of Cappadocia, the

defiles which led into Cilicia were held by Syennesis; but he retired

on the approach of Cyrus, who reached the summit of the pass without

resistance. Thence he could see the camp of the Cilicians, and descended

into a vast and fertile plain surrounded by mountains. Xenophon describes

the plain as “vast and fertile, well watered, full of vines and all

kinds of trees, and producing much wheat, barley, sesamum, and millet.”

Across this plain he marched in one day to Tarsus. The entire march from

Tyana to Tarsus occupied four days, and was twenty-five parasangs in

length, equal to about seventy-five miles English. Epyaxa had reached

Tarsus five days earlier, and Syennesis was persuaded to help Cyrus.

Accordingly he gave him his son and some troops, but at the same time he

sent off secretly another of his sons to the king of Persia (Artaxerxes

Mnemon) to explain that he had only joined Cyrus under constraint. He

sent also information about the forces of Cyrus, and promised to abandon

him on the first favourable opportunity. The army remained twenty days

at Tarsus, and here a mutiny broke out amongst the Greek troops, who

began to suspect the real object of the expedition. It was appeased by a

donation of money, which seems to have been raised by plundering Tarsus.

Many ancient medals of cities in Cilicia are extant bearing the names of

various satraps or semi-independent kings. The obverse of these medals

is a figure of one of the principal divinities worshipped in Cilicia:

Minerva, Apollo, Hercules, but, more commonly, Baal (Baaltars) seated. On

the reverse is a lion, or a lion killing a steer.

The Duc de Luynes, in his work ‘Numismatique des Satrapies,’ &c., pp.

29, 30, mentions eight coins by Abdsohar, prince “of the plain” (as

distinguished from the mountainous part of Cilicia), “one of those

princes who have left numerous medals, and no record in history. The

style of his coins and the inscriptions upon them, connect them beyond

doubt with Cilicia and the mint of Tarsus. They are of very perfect

workmanship, and clearly belong to the time of Artaxerxes Mnemon. The

reverse of these medals is composed in accordance with the religious

ideas of the Persians. A lion is represented devouring a bull, as in all

the mystic groups so common upon the monuments of Asia.”

Further on he says: “This region [Cilicia] was divided into two

provinces—the one mountainous, called τραχειῶτις, extended from the

western slopes of the Taurus—from Isaura and the Homonadians—as far as

Pisidia. The other province, named ‘plain or level’ (πεδιὰς), extended

from Soli to Issus.[36] It would appear that these two Cilicias formed

distinct satrapies, for Camissares and Datames, his son, governed for

the king of Persia that part of Cilicia which was near Cappadocia, and

was inhabited by the Leuco Syri.[37] It was perhaps the neighbourhood

of these satraps, who were certainly contemporaries of Abdsohar, which

induced the latter to distinguish (in the inscriptions on his coins) the

province which he himself governed, by the Phœnician term, equivalent to

‘πεδιὰς.’”

The Duc de Luynes translates the inscription on these coins thus:

(numisma) crassum leone (signatum) purum (cusum) ad (manum) Abdsohar

(satrapæ) Campi Ciliciæ; i.e. “a full lion dollar of pure metal of

Abdsohar of Lower Cilicia.” “Is the name ‘Sohar’ here the name of a

person, or of the star of Venus? a divinity both male and female among

the Persians. I should incline towards the former opinion.”

De Luynes mentions also coins of Syennesis “roi et satrape,” pp. 11-14;

Dernès, pp. 15-21; Dernès et Syennesis, pp. 21-25; Abdsohar, pp. 26-30,

all rulers of Tarsus. At Tarsus also were struck coins of Gaos, six of

which are extant, pp. 31-33. Gaos, however, was not a satrap, but held

Tarsus for two years as a rebel against the king of Persia. Similarly

Ariæus, pp. 34, 35.

During his invasion of Persia Alexander the Great remained awhile at

Tarsus. A bath in the cold waters of the Cydnus nearly proved fatal to

him by bringing on a violent fever.

After the battle of Issus, Darius III. escaped by a pass lying to the

N.E. of the Pylæ Cilicia (probably up the ravines of the Pyramus), as

all the passes to the south were in the possession of the Macedonians.

M. T. Cicero, when Prefect of Cilicia, became acquainted with this pass

during his campaign against the brigands in the Amanus. In the ‘Ep. ad

Familiares,’ xv. 4, he says: “Duo sunt enim aditus in Ciliciam ex Syria,

quorum uterque parvis præsidiis propter angustias intercludi potest,”

&c. It was probably at the eastern issue of the more northern of these

passes that the Khalif Haroun er Rasheed, in 801, had the little fortress

constructed, which, from his name, was called Harounji, whilst his wife

Zobeyde, at the eastern entrance of the Beylan Pass at Bagras, through

which then lay the principal route from Syria into Asia Minor, built a

great khan, then the first and only building of the kind in that part of

Syria. Harounji lies S.W. of Marash. The pass was here closed by iron

gates, a double wall, and a ditch.

On the partition of the Macedonian empire, Tarsus was held by the Greek

kings of Syria (Seleucidæ). It preserved its privileges as a free

city, but shared all the varying fortunes of that dynasty. In 171 B.C.

Antiochus Epiphanes made an expedition into Cilicia to reduce Tarsus and

Mallus, which had revolted because the king had given them as a present

to his concubine Antiochis.

The suppression of the great piratic confederacy of Cilicia brought

Tarsus into closer relations with Rome. In the second of the great civil

wars of Rome it took the side of Julius Cæsar, and remained so faithfully

attached to him, and afterwards to his nephew Octavius,[38] that the

latter gave it the name Juliopolis. It suffered much from the republican

troops under Brutus and Cassius, for it was pillaged and heavily fined.

It was the scene of the famous meeting between Antonius and Cleopatra,

and was much favoured by Antonius; yet the attachment of its people to

the Julian family remained unshaken.

Octavius did much for it, and under the earlier Roman emperors it became

a very flourishing place, vieing in its schools and universities, even

with Athens and Alexandria. Tarsus doubtless experienced the benefits

of Adrian, and of the emperors of the Antonine family, equally with the

other cities of Cilicia, and under these rulers it constantly preserved

its privileges. It was the capital of the Cilician Community (Κοινὸν

Κιλικίας), and every year great games were celebrated here in honour of

the emperors.

At Tarsus were the tombs of Maximian Daza, and of the Emperor Julian;

but neither remains, and even their site is unknown. Zosimus gives the

inscription on Julian’s tomb, supposed to have been the composition of

the sophist Libanius:—

Ἰουλιανὸς μετὰ Τίγριν ἀγάῤῥοον ἐνθάδε κεῖται

ἀμφότερον βασιλεὺς τ’ ἀγαθος κρατερός τ’ ἀιχμητής.

Julian, returned from Tigris’ mighty flood,

Here lies—a warrior brave, a monarch good.

The Emperor Justinian was a great benefactor at Tarsus. Amongst the other

public works he caused to be executed there, was a broad canal which

traversed the city, in order to relieve the main channel of the Cydnus

during inundations. The city had been much damaged by floods.

On the conquest of Cilicia by the Saracens, the Khalifeh Haroun er

Rasheed made it the capital of the province, and strongly fortified it.

The whole territory as far as Tarsus had come into possession of the

Muslims, and Haroun strongly fortified Adana, Tarsus, and Mopsuestia

(Messis), besides securing the passes through the Amanus by means of

forts. His son and successor, El Maamoun, further strengthened Tarsus

to such an extent that, “it might have resisted the Christians for

centuries.” El Maamoun was buried at Tarsus, but his tomb does not now

exist.

For a short period during the brilliant reigns of Nicephorus Phocas and

John Zimisces, Cilicia was recovered by the Greeks. In A.D. 963, Zimisces

gained a great victory over the Saracens near Adana, and the former

captured Adana and Anazarba, and the next year Mopsuestia and Tarsus.

But in A.D. 969, Phocas was assassinated, through the intrigues of

Zimisces and the Empress Theophanon. Zimisces succeeded to the throne. He

continued the war against the Saracens, gained great victories over them,

and hoped to recover Syria and Mesopotamia, and to free Jerusalem. But in

976 he was poisoned, and all these great hopes perished.

Although Tarsus was the prey of every successive race of invaders,

ravaged again and again by the barbarous mountaineers of Cilicia,

Isaurians, and others, destroyed by the western nations who directed

crusades against its Muslim possessors, it still maintained a certain

amount of prosperity throughout the middle ages.

It shared the vicissitudes of the long wars between Greeks, Armenians,

and the various Muslim races who disputed with them the possession of

Cilicia; but there is a blank in its history for nearly 600 years. Of

late years it has revived considerably, but so great have been the

changes it has undergone, topographical and other, that it is impossible

to recognize the once celebrated city in the filthy and miserable modern

Tersoùs.

Tarsus can scarcely be considered a Turkish city, the great majority

of its inhabitants are either Armenians, or yet more Syrians, whose

language is Arabic, a large proportion of the latter belonging to the

Nusairi, a mysterious sect and people not to be confounded either with

the Ishmaliens, or with the Druses (on whose habits, dwelling places in

the mountains of Northern Syria, and their obscure tenets—supposed to be

a strange mixture of Islam and Christianity—see Ritter, ‘Erdkunde,’ vol.

xvii. pp. 975-95).

“Their physiognomy and religious opinions” (says the Rev. S. Lyde,

speaking of the Nusairiyeh) “prove them to be a race different from the

other populations of Syria. They are supposed to be aborigines whose

home is in the mountainous territory lying between Mount Kasius and

the Lebanon, and to have maintained themselves there whilst successive

migrations of nations in the lower districts have pushed aside the other

autochthones, or replaced them by a new population.”

ADANA.—The foundation of this city also mounts to mythical ages. Steph.

Byzan. (sub voce Adana) says that the two brothers, Adanus and Sarus, who

were sons of Ge and Ouranus, after having defeated the Tarsiots, founded

the city. One gave his name to the town, the other to the river.

Beyond this obscure reference, there seems to be absolutely no notice

of Adana in history till the time of Pompeius Magnus, and it seems to

have been of very little importance even then. Appian[39] says that “in

Mallus and Adana and Epiphaneia, and any other town of Cilicia Tracheia

(_sic._), which was deserted or lacking population, Pompeius settled

those of the pirates who seemed to have practised piracy, not from

viciousness, but rather in consequence of the distress caused by the

Mithridatic war.”

The first great benefactor of Adana was the Emperor Adrian. He gave

his name to the town, as is proved by the legend on some of its coins,

“Αδριανων Αδανεων.” Of the edifices constructed by this emperor, nothing

exists except perhaps the last arch of the bridge on the west side. The

first bridge was constructed by his order, and an inscription containing

the emperor’s name existed on the present bridge about forty-five years

ago, but has now disappeared. In gratitude for certain favours conferred

by Maximian, Adana, with permission of the emperor and senate, assumed

the title of Μαξιμιανων Αδανεων. During the fourth and fifth centuries

Adana, in common with the rest of Cilicia, suffered immensely from the

Isaurians. Adana owed much to Justinian. This emperor restored the bridge

which had fallen into a state of dangerous dilapidation.

Procopius[40] gives a very verbose account of this great work, from

which it appears that the entire structure threatened to fall into the

river owing to the decay of the piers on which its huge arches rested,

that the emperor caused a new channel to be dug into which the river was

diverted. He then caused the ruinous piers to be taken down and rebuilt,

after which the river was turned back into its former channel. Besides

the bridge, the emperor caused an aqueduct or canal on arches to be

constructed, and built great dykes along the sides of the stream.

This aqueduct seems to have been still in existence at the time of

Paul Lucas’ visit to Adana, in 1705, but it has since disappeared.

The emperor’s engineer for these works was a certain Auxentius. There

is still extant on the high altar of the Greek Church at Adana an

inscription which Paul Lucas saw on the aqueduct.

Of the porticus mentioned by Otter[41] and Kinneir[42] not a trace

remains, and the little that still existed of the fort at the west end

of the bridge, mentioned by Lucas[43] and Kinneir[44], has been lately

removed. In 1385, Sultan Bayazid captured it, and afterwards repaired it;

in 1388 it was again besieged and captured by the Sultan of Egypt.

Adana owed much to the Abasside khalifehs, especially to Haroun er

Rasheed, but Cilicia was constantly the scene of war between the

khalifehs and the Byzantine emperors. Two only of the Greek emperors

appear to have been successful against the Saracens, viz. Nicephorus

Phocas and John Zimisces, but after the death of the latter, Cilicia was

soon lost to the Byzantines.

At the time of the first Crusade, Adana was a very flourishing city.

Raoul de Caen[45] calls it “urbs munita turribus, populis capax, armis

referta.” Guilliaume de Tyr[46] calls it “urbem qui nomen habet Adana,

auro et argento, gregibus et frumentis, vino et oleo et omni commoditate

abundantem.” The Crusades probably enabled the Byzantines to recover

Cilicia, but in the course of the twelfth century the Armenians, under

their Roupenian kings, after long warfare, expelled the Greeks, who were

never again able to recover the country.

The Armenians were exposed to constant attacks from the Muslims of

Koniah and Karaman, varied by occasional inroads of Tartars. But after

the disastrous Crusade of Louis IX. against Egypt, a far more formidable

enemy appeared. The terrible Beybars Bundoukdar, Sultan of Egypt, invaded

Cilicia, and from this time forward, the Armenians of Cilicia were

exposed to continual attacks from the Egyptian Sultans; one of them, “El

Melik en Nasr,” devastated the country repeatedly in the most fearful

manner (A.D. 1320-1337). He succeeded in capturing Adana, but could not

reduce the great rock fortresses of Cilicia.

These invasions were renewed at intervals from 1343-1375, when the

Armenian monarchy was destroyed, and their last king captured and carried

away into Egypt by the Sultan El Ashraf.

Paul Lucas writes of Adana as follows (translation): “Adana appears to me

to possess the most agreeable climate in the world. During the winter its

air is excellent, and the days there, at that season are more beautiful

than in many other places in spring time. All the year round fruits are

grown there which other countries only produce at certain seasons, as,

for instance, water melons, common melons, cucumbers, pomegranates, and

all kinds of vegetables and herbs. During the summer, however, there does

not seem to be so much enjoyment, for in proportion as it approaches,

this fine town sees its inhabitants retire. From the month of April, the

heats are so overpowering that the citizens are forced to take refuge in

the mountains which are called ‘Laiassi’ [these are the ‘Yailas,’ summer

retreats in the mountains], and which I think are the dependencies of

Mount Taurus. There they stay for about six months in the year. But I am

told that there also the life they pass is perfectly delicious, and that

during these six months the prettiest imaginable towns are constructed on

these heights, which are planted with forest and abound in grottoes and

springs of water.

“At the extremity of Adana on the south, and at the foot of the walls, a

river flows, as large as the Seine, called the Chaquet. On its banks is

the citadel of the town; it is small, but built upon the natural rock,

and of considerable strength. As I was one day passing by it, the Aga who

is in command of it, ordered me to be called, and asked me if I was not

the Frank Physician. I told him that I was. Then he begged me to enter,

and to take a cup of coffee with him. In course of conversation he paid

me an infinite number of compliments on the cures which I had effected

in the town.... Finally he asked me if I wished to see the castle, and

ordered one of his people to show me everything in it. After passing

the outer wall, which is flanked by a number of towers, we entered by

a gate as old as the citadel itself. It is made of great bars of iron,

covered with great iron horse-shoes, three fingers thick, three-quarters

of a foot long and half a foot wide, and secured with rivets, the heads

of which are as large as a tennis ball, and cut into facets.... Then we

walked round the walls. There I saw only a single piece of cannon ... and

in the whole castle I found nothing worthy of notice, except a frightful

prison, the very look of which was enough to make one shudder. It is of

a round form like a well, and may be about sixty feet in circumference

and forty in depth. It contained at that time some sixty prisoners,

almost trampling one upon the other, and whose miserable condition could

not fail to excite compassion.

“In this prison was placed Stephen, the Patriarch of the Syrians, with

three of his Bishops, who professed the Roman Catholic faith. The

schismatic Syrians (i.e. of the Greek Church), after having caused them

to suffer an infinity of persecutions and grievous fines, obtained

by means of bribery a firman of the grand signor against them. In

consequence of that order they were loaded with chains, brought from

Aleppo, and cast into this frightful dungeon. The unhappy patriarch died

there, professing, even to his last breath, the Catholic faith. Several

others followed his example there shortly after, and the Christians of

the country assured me that they all died like veritable saints. This

little fortress is only about three hundred paces in circumference.

“In passing out from the town in that direction, you cross a handsome

stone bridge of fifteen arches. On the right side towards the west are

some great aqueducts, at the bottom of which are to be seen a number of

wheels, which draw the water of the river something like the wheels of

the machine at Marly. These aqueducts carry the water of the Chaquet all

over the town by means of different water conduits, and there is no place

where there are more or finer fountains than Adana.

“I found only two inscriptions ... the second, which is in hexameter and

pentameter verses, seems to have been set up in honour of some great

personage who had secured the town against the inundations of the river.

The inscription wishes for that personage a glory as immortal as those

had acquired for themselves who had caused the canals of the Nile to be

constructed.”[47]

Of these works not a trace could I discover. The subjoined is the

inscription referred to. The text amended by Boeckh, iii. p. 212.

“Οντως σης αρετης Αυξεντιε και τοδε θαυμα

δειμασθαι ποταμου χειμεριοισι δρομοις

αρρηκτον κρηπιδα σιδηροδετοισι θεμειλοις

ων υπερ ευρειην εξετανυσσας οδον

ην πολλοι και προσθεν απειρειησι νοοιο

Κυδναιων ρειθρων τευξαν αφαυροτερην.

σοι δ’ υπερ αψιδων αιωνιος ερριζωται

και ποταμος πληθων πρηυτερος τελεθει

αυτος τηνδε γεφυραν ανασχομενος τελεσασθαι

ηγεμονος πειθου του διασημοτατου

οφρα σε και μετοπισθεν εχοι κλεος ισον εκεινοις

οι Νειλου προχοας ζευξαν απειρεσιους.”

“Of a truth, Auxentius, this also is a wondrous work of your ability,

to have constructed for the winter floods of the river an embankment

that cannot be broken, on foundations secured with iron, above which

you extended a wide roadway—and this many before you, owing to their

inexperience (want of skill) had made too weak (to resist) the Cydnean

stream, but by you it has been fixed firm and enduring above its arches,

and the swollen stream becomes (thus) more gentle. Yourself, too, in

obedience to the command of the most illustrious prince, patiently

completed the bridge, so that hereafter a glory will be yours equal (to

the fame of) those who dyked the vast streams of Nile.”

The prince is no doubt Justinian; and his engineer Auxentius, besides

repairing the bridge, seems to have also constructed solid quays

along the banks of the river, which preserved the town of Adana from

inundations. The sixth line presents a difficulty, the river is not the

Cydnus, but the Sarus, and although at various periods the Sarus and

Pyramus have formed one stream, owing to changes in the respective course

of these rivers, it does not appear that the Cydnus and Sarus ever flowed

together.

MESSIS.—Its ancient name was Mopsuestia, but the Byzantine Arab and

Armenian writers name it very variously, e.g. Mopsistea, Mampsysta,

Mamista, Mamistra, Masissa, &c., &c.

It was founded after the Trojan war by Mopsus. An Argive colony, under

Amphilochus, afterwards settled here, but a dispute having arisen

between the two chiefs, a single combat took place between them, in

which both fell. Mopsus afterwards was worshipped in Cilicia, on account

of the celebrity of his oracles. Of the early history of Messis there

is no trace whatever. Like many other Asiatic cities, it took the name

Seleucia in honour of the Greek kings of Syria. It is mentioned by

Strabo, and as a free state under the Romans by Pliny. It would seem

to have been benefited by Adrian, whose name it bore, and who probably

built the first bridge over the Pyramus. Later it assumed the name

ΔΕΚΙΑΝΩΝ ΜΟΨΕΑΤΩΝ, from the Emperor Trajan Decius. Justinian also was

its benefactor, and repaired the bridge.[48] In A.D. 950, Mopsuestia was

captured by the Saracens, but in 965 recaptured, after a long siege, by

Nicephorus Phocas. William of Tyre says of it,[49] “Erat autem Mamistra

una de nobilioribus ejusdem provinciæ civitatibus, muro et multorum

incolatu insignis, sedet optimo agro et gleba ubere et amœnitate præcipue

commendabilis.” It was here that a fierce battle occurred between the

troops of Baldwin and Tancred during the first Crusade. It was captured

by the Crusaders in 1097. The town was often taken and retaken in

the wars between Greeks, Saracens, and Armenians, and changed hands

repeatedly during the Crusades and the later invasions of Cilicia by

the Sultans of Egypt. Willibrand, canon of Oldenburg, visited it in

the thirteenth century. According to him “Manistere” was a fine town,

situated on a river, having ramparts flanked with towers, but ruinous by

reason of their age. It had only a few inhabitants, and was subject to

the king of Armenia. Near the town was the castle, held by a Byzantine

garrison, although the town itself belonged to the Armenian king, Leo II.

Both town and citadel often changed hands during the wars between Greeks

and Armenians, until finally the Greeks abandoned the place.

Pierre Belon visited Messis in the sixteenth century. He also mentions

the castle, and the khan at the east extremity of the bridge. The latter,

a large and solidly-built edifice, was erected in 1532, and is one of the

numerous khans constructed by order of the sultans Selim I. and Suleiman

during the first half of the sixteenth century. It was repaired in 1830

by Hassan Pasha. In Pierre Belon’s time Messis and the Pyramus were the

limits which separated the Arabic and Turkish languages, and divided the

Ottoman empire from the dominions of the sultans of Egypt. The town was

then what it is now, viz. a great mass of ruins, with a few wretched

cottages scattered amidst it.

The only celebrated name connected with Mopsuestia is that of Bishop

Theodore. He held that see for thirty-six years, and was considered as

“primarily responsible” for all the theological commotions associated

with the names of Nestorius and Pelagius, for it was under these

names that the opinions of Theodore came before the notice of the

world. Nestorius was said to have stopped at Mopsuestia as he went

from his monastery at Antioch to take possession of the patriarchate

of Constantinople, and there to have been imbued with heresy by the

aged, and then almost dying, Theodore, and this story, though doubtful

in itself, embodies an unquestionable truth. It was the influence of

Theodore’s episcopate, extending over thirty-six years, during which he

was a most popular preacher, which brought to a head those tendencies of

Antiochene thought, whose inevitable issue was Nestorianism. And we have

fragments of his writings containing the principles and many even of the

very phrases of that which was afterwards known as Nestorian heresy. Thus

he has been justly called “a Nestorian before Nestorius.”

In like manner as to Pelagianism. Rufinus, the Syrian monk, who first led

Pelagius into heresy, openly boasted that he was the personal disciple

of Theodore; and the diocese of Mopsuestia was treated by the leading

Pelagians as the natural head-quarters of their party. There are even

extant fragments of a book of Theodore in which he attacks S. Jerome

on the question of Original Sin. Our knowledge of the man himself is

as fragmentary as the remains of his voluminous works. Of his life we

know only two or three episodes, derived chiefly from some letters of S.

Chrysostom. Of his commentaries on the greater part of the Old Testament

none remains entire, except those on the twelve minor prophets. The

rest, like his great dogmatic works, exist only in scattered fragments,

preserved by his theological opponents as testimony against their author,

and yet they were esteemed—by friends and foes alike—as the greatest

exegetical works which the school of Antioch had produced.

Theodore of Antioch, as he is commonly called, when the works written

before he became bishop are quoted, was born at Antioch, about A.D.

347, being thus the fellow-townsman and contemporary of S. Chrysostom.

His parents were wealthy, but beyond this we know nothing of his family

history. Another brother of the same family, Polychronius, was well known

as a bishop and a commentator, and his work on the ‘Prophecy of Daniel’

is still extant.[50]

We first hear of Theodore when, at about the age of twenty, he was

studying rhetoric with S. Chrysostom, under the sophist Libanius.

Shortly after, Chrysostom retired from the world, and persuaded Theodore

to follow his example. A violent reaction followed. Theodore left his

solitude determined to marry, upon which Chrysostom addressed to him one

if not two letters of remonstrance; perhaps, however, the longer of the

two, in which mention is made of a lady, Hermione, is addressed to some

other Theodore. The result of Chrysostom’s eloquent pleading was that

Theodore remained constant to his vows. Again he studied with Chrysostom,

and their master having been made Bishop of Tarsus, Theodore followed him

there, was ordained by him, and remained in the diocese until his death.

In 393 he was himself made Bishop of Mopsuestia, the third town in what

was then known as Cilicia Secunda, and under the Metropolitan See of

Anazarba.

In 404 S. Chrysostom, then for the second time in exile, writing to

Pœanius, a cousin of Theodore, styles the latter “his master.” In the

same year he writes to Theodore himself, who, with the tact which must

have been habitual to him, had managed to aid S. Chrysostom without

offending the opposite party. He wishes it were possible to come to him

and enjoy in person his affection, but since this cannot be he must

discharge the same duty by letter. “For if I were carried to the ends of

the earth never could I forget your affection, genuine, warm, sincere,

and guileless, both as it used to be from the very first and as you have

displayed it now. For it is no small consolation that I have received

even here ... the affection of your watchful and generous soul.”

Theodore’s whole life was one of ceaseless literary and theological

activity, “prope infinita scripsit Theodorus.” He wrote against the

Dualism of Zoroaster. He cleared his diocese of Arianism. His work

against Apollinaris belongs to the latest period of his life. His death

occurred in 429.[51]

Immediately beyond Messis commences the border country of the Amanus.

Writing of this district, Ritter[52] says, “The struggles, lasting for

centuries in this western border country between the Byzantine emperors

and the Arab khalifs, were so full of changes, so sanguinary, and so

exciting for the populations engaged in them, that these mountaineers

may be said to have lived in a state of constant warfare, without ever

arriving at a state of rest.” At the time of the Khalif Haroun er Rasheed

the whole country as far as Tarsus had come under the power of the

Muslim, for this khalif built the fortresses in the passes of the Amanus,

and in 758 made Adana and Tarsus into border fastnesses. Similarly

Messissa was made into a border fortress by the Khalif el Mansour; all

three were to serve as bulwarks for Syria, and Tarsus was still further

strengthened by Khalif el Maamoun to such a degree that it “might have

resisted the Christians for centuries.” Yet Abulfeda says that in his

time these very towns had been wrested from the Muslim by the Armenian

Christians, and that Tarsus, Ayas, Adana, and others were held by the

kings of Lesser Armenia who ruled at Sis, and he prays Allah that they

may soon return into the possession of the faithful. “These holy wars,”

says the gloss to Abulfeda, “exist no longer, what has become of them and

of their work?”

Abulfeda himself made two campaigns in company with his father. The

first, in 1298, was against the Armenians of Cilicia. The Muslim army

entered the country by the passes of “Marra” (Marash?) and the Pass of

Scanderoun, but the only result was the devastation of the land as far as

the army advanced, the killing of the men, the distribution of the women

and children as booty, and their sale as slaves. In the second campaign,

in 1302, Abulfeda penetrated, by way of Bagras and the Pass of Beilan, as

far as Sis itself.

“It is not astonishing that such a warlike existence of populations,

enflamed by fanaticism, should have led them to a constant life of

plundering and robbery, which under a hated Turkish rule would be

intensified through the attraction of revolt against tyrannical, and at

the same time cowardly, mercenaries and feeble pashas. Nor, again, is

it astonishing that such a condition of things should have prevailed

even till now (1855), for besides the encouragement afforded by mountain

fortresses naturally strong; there were the constant intrigues and

quarrels of the pashas of Cilicia and Syria almost always ill-disposed

towards each other, and thus the Amanus remains what it has ever been,

the asylum of every robber, rebel, or deposed pasha.

“Under such circumstances it is not wonderful that scarcely any place of

importance, except Beilan, is known to us in the interior of the mountain

ranges and the valleys of the Amanus. The others that may exist are

probably only ruins, or the haunts of brigands; and even the coast towns

exhibit a sad picture of decay and wreck, in the midst of which every

temporary improvement can but sink and fall into oblivion.”

But of late years a vast improvement has taken place (1878).

MARASH.—On the site of ancient Germanicia. There seems to be no mention

of this place in any writer of classical times, nor even under any Roman

emperor, though it is mentioned by Byzantine writers. Under Alexis

Comnenus it was the seat of a patriarch, whose authority extended to

Edessa. At the end of the eleventh century it was held by the Armenian

kings of Cilicia. The Crusaders under Godfrey de Bouillon, on their

march from Koniah past Eregli, lost their way in the high ranges of

Taurus, and after much wandering came to Marash. After various changes of

masters, it fell into the power of Masaoud, Sultan of Koniah, in 1147,

but was afterwards recovered by the Armenian kings, and remained in their

possession till the end of the Roupenian dynasty.

Michaud[53] gives a description of the difficulties endured by the

Christian army whilst crossing the Taurus, between “Cocson” (the ancient

Cucusus, place of exile of S. Chrysostom) and “Maresia” (Marash), which

was about ten hours to the S.W. The chroniclers declare “that there was

no path in these mountains except fit only for reptiles or beasts of

prey, and so narrow that there was scarcely room to place the foot; the

knights carried their arms hung round their neck; the animals could not

bear their burdens, which had to be carried by hand. No one could halt

or sit down, no one could help his companion, only the man behind could

give assistance to his comrade in front, and the latter could only turn

with much difficulty.” Maresia was the limit to these difficulties. It

was inhabited by Christians, and the Turkish garrison that had held the

citadel had fled on the approach of the Crusaders. Here the wife of

Baldwin died, and her remains were buried in the town, &c., &c.

SIS.—On the site of Flavias, or Flaviopolis. Barker[54] supposes this

to be the Pindenissus which Cicero besieged during his proconsulate of

Cilicia. By Strabo it is called Πιδνίδισσος, by Stephan. Byzantin.,

Πιδνήδισσος. Cicero,[55] after noticing some severe losses inflicted on

the Roman army by the mountaineers of the Amanus, mentions the surrender

to himself of the “Pindenissæ.” Pindenissus, he says, was a city of

the independent Cilicians (Eleuthero-Cilices). Its inhabitants were

brave, warlike, and well provided with means for defending their city.

He mentions the operations of the army. They surrounded the city with a

ditch and breastwork, employed a large “agger” with a very lofty tower,

a great abundance of artillery (tormenta), and many archers. After a

stubborn resistance, which seems to have caused severe loss to the

Romans, Pindenissus surrendered on the forty-seventh day of the siege.

This Pindenissus of Cicero, however, can hardly have been the tremendous

rock fortress of Sis, which is naturally almost impregnable.

Probably there was a fortress here at a very early period, but the old

city of Sis, if any existed, has utterly disappeared, and the first

time the town is mentioned is towards the end of the twelfth century.

The seventh thakavor, and first king of the Roupenian line in 1183,

was Leo II. He was crowned by Conrad, Bishop of Moguntia, through the

influence of the Emperor Henry II. with the Pope. This monarch either

founded or rebuilt Sis, commencing the work in 1186, and after this time

it continued to be the capital and burial place of the Roupenian kings

till 1374, when the Egyptians, after a siege of two months, captured and

destroyed it.

It had been besieged many times before by the sultans of Koniah and of

Egypt, but owing to its great natural strength, never captured, though

the rest of the country, except some of the strongholds, fell into the

hands of the invaders. Of the buildings of Sis, only one or two ruined

churches remain, as the town was repeatedly destroyed.

The Armenian patriarchate was established here under the protection

of the Roupenian kings, after the patriarch had been forced to quit

Roum Kalah in consequence of the conquests of the Egyptians. In 1441,

Etchmiazin, in Greater Armenia, became the chief Armenian patriarchate,

but the ancient patriarchate of Sis is still maintained, although the

patriarch seldom resides there.

ANAZARBA.—Several accounts are given of the origin of its name—either

from ‎‏زرب‏‎ “zarb” (yellow), referring to the colour of its rock; or

from its founder (whether mythical or real) “Azarbas.” Another account is

that the place was destroyed by an earthquake during the reign of Nerva,

and that he sent Anazarbus, a senator, to restore it: hence its name.

Zonarus[56] and Philostratus[57] call it Anabarzus and Anabarza, and the

Armenians of the country call it “Anawàrza.”

The Emperor Augustus visited it, favoured it much, and gave it the

name of Cæsarea ad Anazarbum. It continued to receive many benefits

from succeeding emperors. Under Commodus it became “αυτονομος”; under

Caracalla, “μητροπολις”; under Macrinus, “ενδοξος”; under Philip the

Arabian, “libera.” In the Museum of the Louvre there is a large bronze

medal of Alexander Severus, inscribed ΑΝΑΖΑΡΒΟ ΜΗΤΡΟΠΟΛΕΙΤΩΝ.

About the middle of the fifth century it became the capital of Cilicia

Secunda. A terrible earthquake ruined it in the reign of Justin, A.D.

525. The emperor restored it, and called it Justinopolis, but the

former name prevailed. Another earthquake, in the reign of Justinian,

almost utterly destroyed it. This emperor also restored the city, and

the existing walls belong to that period. Towards the end of the eighth

century it fell into the hands of the Muslim; and in 802 Haroun er

Rasheed placed in it a Khorassani garrison. About 1100, the Armenians

acquired Anazarba, and it continued to be the capital and residence of

their thakavors till the foundation of Sis. After that time it gradually

lost its importance, and fell into decay.

Near Anazarba occurred a great battle in 1130, in which Bohemond,

Prince of Antioch, defeated Redouan, Sultan of Aleppo and Damascus, but

was himself slain in the fight. In 1136 it was captured, after a most

obstinate defence, by the Byzantines, under their brave and generous

emperor, John Comnenus, who had been provoked by the encroachments of

the Armenians on Isauria. The Armenian king, Leo I., was captured, and

all Cilicia reduced. In 1183 it was visited and described by Willibrand,

Canon of Oldenburg. Very few travellers have seen it, and the remote

position of the old city has saved what remains of it from destruction.

In all probability it has continued waste and uninhabited for many

centuries until quite a recent period.

PYLÆ CILICIÆ.—Although this pass must have always formed the chief

passage from the interior of Asia Minor to the sea-coast, it is strange

how very scanty are the notices of it to be found in the Greek or Roman

historians. Xenophon mentions the march of Cyrus the younger through it.

Then the next incident, after an interval of more than five centuries,

is the death, in A.D. 174, of the Empress Faustina at Halala, whilst

traversing the Pylæ. She was accompanying her husband, Marcus Aurelius,

into Syria. The emperor raised a temple to her memory, and founded a

town, to which he gave the name Faustinopolis.

In the contest for the empire between Septimus Severus and Percennius

Niger, one of Niger’s generals, Æmilianus, had erected fortifications to

the north of the pass; but a violent storm and inundation destroyed all

the works, and the army of Severus marched through without being resisted.

During the first Crusade, a division of the Crusaders under Tancred made

their way through this pass to Tarsus. Albert d’Aix calls it “porta de

Judas,” and the defile to the north he names “Butrente,” derived, without

doubt, from the ancient city once existing in it, “Podandus.”

The strong works erected by the Egyptian Ibrahim Pasha, for the defence

of Cilicia against the Sultan’s army, still extend across the valley to

the north of the pass itself.