time the least elevated and the most barren. You may walk for hours
there without seeing a tree. Even olive-trees are not met with in the
fields, and the village gardens can boast but of few fruit trees.
Timber has to be procured from Thasos or the continent. Lemnos, in
spite of all this, is exceedingly fertile; it produces barley and
other cereals in plenty, and the pastures amongst its hills sustain
40,000 sheep. The island consists of several distinct mountain groups
of volcanic origin, 1,200 to 1,500 feet in height, and separated by
low plains covered with scoriæ, or by gulfs penetrating far inland.
In the time of the ancient Greeks the volcanoes of Lemnos had not yet
quenched their fires, for it was in one of them that Vulcan, when
hurled from heaven, established his smithy, and, with the assistance of
the Cyclops, forged his thunderbolts for Jupiter. About the beginning
of our era Mount Mosychlos and the promontory of Chryse were swallowed
up by the sea, and the vast shoals which extend from the eastern part
of the island in the direction of Imbro probably mark their site.
Since the disappearance of Mount Mosychlos, Lemnos has not again
suffered from volcanic eruptions or earthquakes. The majority of the
inhabitants are Greeks, and the Turks who have settled amongst them
are being evicted by the conquered race, which is superior to them
in intelligence and industry. Commerce is entirely in the hands of
the Greeks. Its principal seat is at Kastro—the ancient Myrhina—which
occupies a headland between two roadsteads. Sealed earth is one of the
articles exported, and is found in the mountains. In ancient times it
was much prized as an astringent, and is so still throughout the East.
It is not considered to possess its healing qualities unless it has
been collected before sunrise on Corpus Christi day.
The small island of Stratio (Hagios Eustrathios) depends politically
and commercially upon Lemnos. It, too, is inhabited by Greeks. As to
the islands along the coast of Asia Minor, they form a portion of
Turkey in Europe as far as their political administration is concerned,
but geographically they belong to Asia.[26] {98}
III.—TURKEY OF THE GREEKS (THRACIA, MACEDONIA, AND THESSALY).
The whole of the Ægean seaboard of European Turkey is occupied
by Greeks, and this proves the great influence which the sea has
exercised upon the migrations of the Mediterranean nations. Thessaly,
Macedonia, Chalcis, and Thrace are more or less Greek countries, and
even Constantinople lies within Greece, as defined by ethnological
boundaries. The geographical distribution of race there does not, in
fact, coincide with the physical features of the country—its mountains,
rivers, and climate. The Turkey of the Greeks is, in reality, no
geographical unit, and the only tie which unites it are the waters of
the Archipelago, which wash all its shores.
Nowhere else does the Balkan peninsula exhibit such varied features
as on the shores of the Ægean Sea, and of the adjoining basin of the
Sea of Marmara. Bluffs, hills, and mountain masses rise abruptly from
the plain; arms of the sea extend far inland; and ramified peninsulas
project into the deep waters of the ocean. It appears almost as if
nature were making an effort to create an archipelago similar to that
in the south.
The tongue of land upon which Constantinople has been built offers a
remarkable example of the features which characterize the coast lands
of this portion of Europe. Geologically the whole of this peninsula
belongs to Asia. Its hollow hills are separated from the granitic
mountains of Europe by a wide plain covered with recent formations,
and the wall of Athanasius, now in ruins, which was built as a defence
to the city, approximately marks the true boundary between Europe and
Asia. The rocks on both sides of the Bosphorus belong to the Devonian
formation. They contain the same fossils, exhibit the same outward
aspects, and date from the same epoch. A patch of volcanic rocks at
the northern entrance to the Bosphorus likewise exhibits the same
characteristics on both sides of the strait, and there cannot be the
least doubt that this European peninsula at a former epoch constituted
a portion of Asia Minor, but was severed from it by an irruption of the
waters.
[Illustration: THE CITY OF CONSTANTINOPLE, AND THE THRACIAN BOSPHORUS.]
[Illustration: CONSTANTINOPLE AND THE GOLDEN HORN, FROM THE HEIGHTS OF
EYUB.]
Apollo himself, it is said, pointed out the site where to build the
city which is now known as Constantinople, and no better could have
been found. In fact, the city occupies the most favoured spot on the
Bosphorus. It stands on a peninsula of gently undulating hills, bounded
by the Sea of Marmara and by the curved inlet called, from its shape,
its beauty, and the valuable cargoes floating upon its waters, the
“Golden Horn.” The swift current of the Bosphorus penetrates into
this inlet, and sweeps it clean of all the refuse of the city. It
then passes into the open sea at the extreme angle of the peninsula,
and sailing vessels are thus able to reach their anchorage without
having to struggle against a contrary current. This haven not only
affords a secure anchorage to a multitude of vessels, but it likewise
abounds in fish; for, in spite of the constant agitation of its waters
by the oars of caiques and the paddles or screws of steamers, it is
visited annually by shoals of tunnies and other fish. The haven of
Constantinople, though easy of access to peaceable merchantmen, can
readily be {99} closed in case of war. The surrounding heights
command every approach to it, and a chain has more than once been drawn
across the narrow entrance to its roadstead when the city was besieged.
The latter, too, can be defended easily, for it is built upon hills,
bounded on the land side by an extensive plain. An assailant, to insure
success, must dispose not only of an army, but also of a powerful navy.
In addition to all these natural advantages of its site, Constantinople
is in the enjoyment of a climate far superior to that of the cities of
the Black Sea, for it is screened by hills from cold northerly winds.
[Illustration: Fig. 31.—GEOLOGICAL MAP OF THE PENINSULA OF
CONSTANTINOPLE.
According to F. von Hochstetter. Scale 1 : 1,370,000.]
In the dawn of history, when migration and commerce marched only at a
slow pace, a site as favoured as that of Byzantium was capable only
of attracting the dwellers in its immediate neighbourhood. But after
commerce had become developed, the blind alone—so said the oracle of
Apollo—could fail to appreciate the great advantages held out by the
Golden Horn. Indeed, Constantinople lies not only on the ocean highway
which connects the world of the Mediterranean with the Black Sea, but
also on the high-road which leads from Asia into Europe. Geographically
it may be described as occupying a position at {100} the mouths of the
Danube, Dniester, Dnieper, Don, Rion, and Kizil Irmak, whose common
outlet is the Bosphorus. When Constantine the Great constituted it
the metropolis of the Roman empire, it grew rapidly in population and
wealth; it soon became the city of cities; and its Turkish appellation,
Stamboul, is nothing but a corruption of the expression _es tam polin_,
used by the inhabitants to denote their going _into the city_. Amongst
the distant tribes of Asia it represents Rome. They know it by no other
name than that of “Rum,” and the country of which it is the capital
they call “Rumelia.”
Constantinople is one of the most beautiful cities in the world: it
is the “paradisiacal city” of Eastern nations. It may compare with
Naples or Rio de Janeiro, and many travellers accord it the palm. As
we approach the entrance of the Golden Horn, seated in a caique more
graceful than the gondolas of Venice, the vast and varied panorama
around us changes with every stroke of the oars. Beyond the white walls
of the Seraglio and its masses of verdure rise here, amphitheatrically
on the seven hills of the peninsula, the houses of Stamboul—its towers,
the vast domes of its mosques, with their circlets of smaller domes,
and its elegant minarets, with their balconies. On the other side of
the haven, which is crossed by bridges of boats, there are more mosques
and towers, seen through a forest of masts and rigging, and covering
the slope of a hill whose summit is crowned by regularly built houses
and the palatial residences of Pera. On the north vast villa-cities
extend along both shores of the Bosphorus. Towards the east, on a
promontory of Asia, there is still another city, cradled amidst gardens
and trees. This is Scutari, the Asiatic suburb of Constantinople, with
its pink houses and vast cemetery shaded by beautiful cypress groves.
Farther in the distance we perceive Kadi-koei, the ancient Chalcedon,
and the small town of Prinkipo, on one of the Princes’ Islands, whose
yellow rocks and verdant groves are reflected in the blue waters of the
Sea of Marmara. The sheet of water connecting these various portions of
the huge city is alive with vessels and boats, whose movements impart
animation to the magnificent picture. The prospect from the heights
above the town is still more magnificent. The coasts of Europe and
Asia are beneath our feet, the eye can trace the sinuosities of the
Bosphorus, and far away in the distance looms the snow-capped pyramidal
summit of Mount Olympus, in Bithynia.
But this enchantment vanishes as soon as we penetrate into the streets
of Constantinople. There are many parts of the town with narrow and
filthy streets, which a stranger hesitates to enter. It is, perhaps,
a blessing, from a sanitary point of view, that conflagrations so
frequently lay waste and scour large portions of the city. Scarcely a
night passes without the watchman on the tower of the Seraskieriate
giving the alarm of fire, and thousands of houses are devoured by that
element every year. The city thus renews itself by degrees. It rises
from its ashes purified by the flames. But formerly, before the Turks
had built their city of stone on the heights of Pera, the quarters
destroyed by fire were rebuilt as wretchedly as they were before. It
is different now. The use of stone has become more general; wooden
structures are being replaced by houses built {101} of a fossiliferous
white limestone, which is quarried at the very gates of the city; and
free use is made of the blue and grey marbles of Marmara, and of the
flesh-coloured ones of the Gulf of Cyzica, in Asia Minor, in decorating
the palaces of the great.
Nearly every vestige of the monuments of ancient Byzantium has been
swept away by fires or sieges. There only exists now the precious
tripod of bronze, with its three serpents, which the Platæans had
placed in the temple of Delphi in commemoration of their victory over
the Persians. The relics of the epoch of the Byzantine emperors are
limited to columns, obelisks, arches of aqueducts, the breached walls
of the city, the remains of the palace of Justinian, only discovered
recently, and the two churches of Santa Sophia, which have been
converted into mosques. The grand church of Santa Sophia, close to the
Seraglio, is no longer the most magnificent edifice in the universe,
as it was in the time of Justinian, for even the neighbouring mosque
of Sultan Ahmed far exceeds it in beauty and elegance. It is a clumsy
building, supported by buttresses added at various times to keep it
from falling. The character of the interior has been changed by the
Turks, who have introduced additional pillars, and the once bright
mosaics have been covered over; but the dome never fails to strike the
beholder: it is a marvel of strength and lightness.
The Seraglio, or Serai, near Garden Point, may boast of fine pavilions
and shady walks, but the dark memories of crime will always cling to
it. The spot from which sacks containing the bodies of living sultanas
or odalisks were hurled into the dark waters of the Bosphorus is still
pointed out to the traveller. Far more attractive than this ancient
residence of the sultans are the marvellous structures in the Arab or
Persian style which line the shores of the Bosphorus, and which impart
to the suburbs of Constantinople an aspect of oriental splendour.
The bazaars are amongst the most curious places in the city, not so
much because of the rich merchandise which is displayed in them, but
because they are frequented by a variety of nations such as cannot be
met with in any other city of the world. The capital of the Ottoman
empire is a centre of attraction not only to the inhabitants of the
Balkan peninsula, but also to those of Anatolia, Syria, Arabia, Egypt,
Tunis, and even of the oases. There are “Franks” from every country
of Europe, drawn thither by a desire to share in the profits of the
ever-increasing commerce of the Bosphorus. This mixture of races is
rendered still greater by the surreptitious importation of slaves;
for, whatever diplomatists may assert, there can be no doubt that the
“honourable guild of slave-dealers” still does an excellent business in
negresses, Circassians, and white and black eunuchs. Nor is anything
else to be expected amongst a people who look upon a well-stocked
harem as a sign of respectability. Dr. Millingen estimates the number
of slaves at Constantinople at 30,000 souls, most of whom have been
imported from Africa. From an anthropological point of view it is
certainly very remarkable that the negro should not have taken root in
Constantinople. In the course of the last four centuries a million of
negroes at least have been imported, and yet, owing to difficulties
of acclimation, ill-usage, and want, they would die out but for fresh
importations. {102}
Our statistics do not enable us to classify the 600,000 inhabitants
of Constantinople and its suburbs according to race.[27] One of the
principal sources of error in estimates of this kind consists in our
confounding Mussulmans with Turks. In the provinces it is generally
possible to avoid this error, for Bosnians, Bulgarians, and Albanians
recognise each other as members of the same race, whatever religious
differences may exist between them. But in the turmoil of a great
city this distinction is no longer made, and, in the end, all those
who frequent the mosques are lumped together as if they were members
of the same race. Of the supposed Osmanli of Constantinople a third,
perhaps, consists of Turks, whilst the remaining two-thirds are made
up of Arnauts, Bulgarians, Asiatics, and Africans of various races.
Amongst the boatmen there are many Lesghians from the Caucasus. The
Mohammedans, if not in the minority already, will be so very soon,
for they lose ground almost visibly. In old Stamboul, in which a
Frank hardly dared to enter some twenty years ago, they still enjoy a
numerical preponderance, but in the “agglomeration of cities” known
as Constantinople, and extending from Prinkipo to Therapia, they are
outnumbered by Greeks, Armenians, and Franks, and certain quarters of
the town have been given up to the Christians altogether.
The Greeks are the most influential, and perhaps most numerous, element
amongst the rayas. Their head-quarters, like those of the Turks, are
at Stamboul, where they occupy a quarter of the town called Phanar,
from an old lighthouse. The Greek patriarch and the wealthiest Greek
families reside there. These Phanariotes, in former times, almost
monopolized the government of the Christian provinces of Turkey,
but they fell into disfavour after the Greek war of liberation. The
religious influence, too, which they exercised until quite recently,
has been destroyed in consequence of the separation of the Servian,
Rumanian, and Bulgarian Churches from the orthodox Greek Church—a
separation brought about almost entirely through the rapacity of the
Greek patriarch and his satellites. If the Greeks would continue to
preserve their pre-eminence amongst the races of Constantinople, they
must trust, in the future, to their superior intelligence, their
commercial habits, education, patriotism, and unanimity. To the Turks
the members of the orthodox Church are known as the “Roman nation,” and
they enjoy a certain amount of self-government, exercised through their
bishops, which extends to marriages, schools, hospitals, and a few
other matters.
The “nation” of the Armenians is likewise very strong at
Constantinople, and, like that of the “Romans,” it governs itself
through an elective Executive Council. Much of the commerce of
Constantinople passes through the hands of Armenians, who, though they
came to that city almost simultaneously with the Turks, have down to
the present day preserved their peculiar manners. They are cold and
reserved, and full of self-respect, differing widely from their rivals
in trade, the Jews, who slink furtively to their poor suburb of Balata,
at the upper {103} extremity of the Golden Horn. The Armenians are
clannish in the extreme, they readily assist each other, and, like
the Parsees of Bombay, delight in acts of munificence. But, unlike
the Greeks, they are not sustained in their undertakings by an ardent
belief in the destinies of their race. Most of them are not even able
to speak their native language freely, and prefer to converse in
Turkish or Greek.
The Franks are much inferior in number to either of the races named,
but their influence is nevertheless far more decisive. It is through
them that Constantinople is attached to the civilisation of Western
Europe, and their institutions are by degrees getting the better of the
fatalism of the East. It is they who built the manufacturing suburbs
to the west of Constantinople and near Scutari, and who introduced
railways. Every civilised nation of the world is represented amongst
them—Italians and French most numerously; and to the Americans is due
the credit of having established the first geological museum in Turkey,
in connection with Robert Colleg.
Constantinople, owing to the influx of strangers, is steadily
increasing in population, and one by one the villages in its vicinity
are being swallowed up by the city. The whole of the Golden Horn is
surrounded by houses now, and they extend far up the valleys of the
Cydaris and Barbyzes, which fall into it. Industrial establishments
extend along the shores of the Sea of Marmara, from the ancient fort of
the Seven Towers far to the west, and from Chalcedon to the south-east,
in the direction of the Gulf of Nicomedia. Both banks of the Bosphorus
are lined with villas, palaces, kiosks, cafés, and hotels. This
remarkable channel extends for nineteen miles between the shores of
Europe and of Asia.[28] Like a huge mountain valley it winds between
steep promontories, now contracting and then expanding, until it
finally opens out into the vast expanse of the Black Sea. When northern
winds hurl the agitated waters of the latter against the sombre cliffs
which guard the entrance to the Bosphorus, the contrast between this
savage sea and the placid waters of the strait and its charming scenery
is striking indeed. At every turn we are arrested by unexpected charms.
Rocks, palaces, woods, vessels of every description, and the curious
scaffoldings of Bulgarian fishermen succeed each other in infinite
variety.
Amongst the innumerable country residences which nestle on the shores
of the Bosphorus, those of Balta-Liman, Therapia, and Buyukdere are the
best known, for they have been the scenes of historical events; but
there is no spot throughout this marine valley which does not excite
admiration. These marvels of nature will, before long, have added to
them a marvel of human ingenuity. The width of the channel between the
castles of Rumili and Anadoli is only 600 yards. It was here Mandroclus
of Samos constructed the bridge of boats across which Darius marched
his army of 700,000 men when he made war upon the Scythians, and on
this identical spot it is proposed now to construct a railway bridge
which will join the railways of Europe to those of Asia. A current
runs through the Bosphorus, from the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara,
at a rate of from two to six miles an hour; and although several
geographers conclude from this that the level {104} of the former is
higher than that of the latter, this must by no means be looked upon as
an established fact. We have already noticed the exchange between the
waters of the Mediterranean and of the open Atlantic, which takes place
through the Strait of Gibraltar. A similar exchange is going on here,
and the outflowing surface current is compensated for by an inflowing
under-current.
The outlying houses and villas of Constantinople extend northwards
along the Bosphorus as far as the two Genoese castles of Rumili-kavak
and Anadoli-kavak. This extension coincides with the geological
features of the ground, for no sooner have we turned our backs upon the
houses than we find ourselves shut in between cliffs of dolerite and
porphyry, which extend as far as the Black Sea, where they terminate in
the precipices of the Cyaneæ, or Symplegades, the famous rocks which
opened and shut, crushing the vessels that ventured to pass through the
strait, until Minerva fixed them for ever. These volcanic rocks are
barren, but the Devonian strata to the south of them are beautifully
wooded. The Turks, unlike the Spaniards and other Southern nations,
love and respect nature; plane-trees, cypresses, and pines still shade
the shores of the Bosphorus; and the vast forest of Belgrade covers
the hills to the east of Constantinople, from which the city draws
its supply of water. Birds, too, are better protected than in many a
Christian land. The plaintive cooing of doves is heard wherever we
turn, flights of swallows and aquatic birds skim over the surface of
the Bosphorus, and now and then we encounter a grave stork perched upon
the top of a tree or of a minaret.
The whole aspect of the place is southerly, yet the climate of
Constantinople has its rigour. The cold winds of the steppes of Russia
freely penetrate through the strait, and the thermometer has been known
to fall four degrees below zero in the winter. The neighbouring sea
renders the climate more equable than it would otherwise be; but as
the winds, from whatever direction they blow, meet with no obstacle,
sudden changes of temperature are frequent. The average temperature
varies very considerably in different years. Sometimes it sinks to the
level of that of Pekin or Baltimore, at others it is as high as that
of Toulon or of Nice. In exceptional cases the Bosphorus has become
covered with ice, but thaws always set in rapidly, and then may be
witnessed the magnificent spectacle of masses of ice striking against
the walls of the Seraglio, and floating away across the Sea of Marmara.
In A.D. 762 these masses of ice were so stupendous that they became
wedged in the Dardanelles, and the tepid waters of the Ægean Sea then
assumed the aspect of a bay of the Arctic Ocean.
* * * * *
The geological features of the coast region of the Sea of Marmara
differ essentially from those of the rest of Turkey. Low ranges of
hills rise close to the coast, increasing in height towards the west,
until they attain an elevation of 2,930 feet in the Tekir Dagh, or
“holy mountains,” the grey slopes of which, covered here and there with
patches of shrubs or pasturage, are visible from afar.
A narrow neck of land joins the peninsula of Gallipoli—the Thracian
{105} Chersonesus of the ancients—to this coast range. This peninsula
is composed of quaternary rocks, which differ in no respect from
those met with on the shore of Asia opposite. Anciently a huge
fresh-water lake covered a portion of Thracia and more than half
the area now occupied by the Ægean Sea. When the land first emerged
above the waters, the Chersonesus formed an integral portion of Asia.
Subsequently the waters of the Black Sea, which had forced themselves
a passage through the Bosphorus, likewise found their way through the
Hellespont into the Ægean Sea. The geological formation of the country
and the configuration of the sea-bottom prove this to have been the
case, and this irruption of the waters was attended, probably, by
volcanic eruptions, traces of which still exist on the islands of the
Sea of Marmara and near the mouth of the Maritza, the former to the
east, the latter to the west of the peninsula.
[Illustration: Fig. 32.—THE HELLESPONT, OR DARDANELLES, AND THE GULF OF
SAROS.
Scale 1 : 1,220,000.
The dark shading expresses a depth exceeding 55 fathoms.]