distinguished in the metropolis by peculiarities which are not left to
their option, but are strictly prescribed to them, that there may be
no amalgamation, and the Osmanli may be marked everywhere by separate
and distinct characters from their Rayas. Not only the manner of their
turban and the colour of their slippers distinguish them from their
masters, but the hue of their houses; and while the Turk indulges in
every gay and gaudy tint, the mansions of the Jew, Greek, and Armenian
are confined to dark and leaden colours, and are at once known by
their dull and dismal aspect This is particularly distinguished in
sailing along the Bosphorus; and so rigid are the Turks in exacting
this distinction, that those who violate it are punished with death.
During the progress of the Greek revolution, it set a fatal mark on the
devoted inhabitants. The troops, in passing up and down the strait,
selected these houses as targets, at which to direct their tophees.
Wherever a person appeared at an open window, a volley was discharged
at him in very wantonness, till the house was riddled with shot.
Nothing could be more dismal than the appearance they presented−-their
dark and dingy fronts torn and ragged, and the inhabitants frequently
hanging out of the windows or against the tattered walls. The rage
at one time was particularly directed against the priests. After the
execution of their venerable patriarch, all sense of sanctity, which
the Turks are willing to allow to the sacred character, whatever be the
profession, was converted into hatred and insult. The bishop of Derkon
was hung against his own church at Therapia; his clergy were executed
whenever they were taken, like common felons, on the shores of the
Bosphorus; and the beauty of this fair region was deformed by the most
appalling sights. The waters, too, bore frightful testimony of these
enormities. The bodies thrown into the current were sometimes carried
by the eddies into the little bays and harbours, where they remained
putrifying in the still water, tainting the air, and exhibiting to
the terrified survivors the decaying remains of their pastors, still
wrapped in the vestments in which they died.
Happily this dismal period is passed away, and the constitutional
gaiety of the Greeks now evinces its usual hilarity, and their music
and dancing again enlivens the shores and villages of the Bosphorus.
Their social dispositions, evinced in the structure of their houses,
is strongly contrasted with those of the Turks. While the windows of
the latter are shut up by impenetrable lattice-work, which is always
kept jealously closed, and a human being is never seen in the solitary
house, those of the former are distinguished by open casements, at
which is generally observed some gay groups of laughing female faces,
holding a cheerful and unrestrained communication with any passenger.
Nor are the houses of their ecclesiastics prohibited from this social
enjoyment. The Greek secular priests are allowed to marry: their
religion does not inhibit gaiety, though it prescribes many fasts: they
have often a numerous family, and the “priest’s house” has nothing of
that ascetic and austere observance that marks the celibacy of the
Latin church.
[Illustration: T. Allom. W. G. Watkins.
THE ACROPOLIS AT SARDIS.
Palace of Crœsus, Church of Panayia, Theatre, Arpolis, the Pactolus,
Mount Tmolus.
ASIA MINOR.]
Sardis, one of the seven churches of the Apocalypse, was anciently
the capital of the rich kingdom of Lydia. Here was the court of the
splendid Crœsus, the contemporary of Cyrus the Great, to which were
invited men distinguished by worth and learning. Here it was that Æsop
composed those apologues, which at this day form the rudiments of our
education; and here Solon gave that instructive lesson to the monarch
on his throne, that riches and prosperity are no protection against
the instability of fortune−-a truth which the unhappy prince had soon
reason bitterly to remember. This city, like others, underwent many
vicissitudes. It fell into the hands of Cyrus and the Persians, five
hundred and fifty years before the Christian era. It was burnt by
the Athenians half a century afterwards; was the occasion of drawing
down the resentment of the “Great King” led the Persians to invade
Europe; and was the cause of all the celebrated events that followed.
It was totally destroyed by an earthquake in the reign of Tiberius,
and about the time of the crucifixion of our Lord. Immediately after,
the renovated city became distinguished among the seven Christian
lights of the world. Sardis was one of those which the prophet, in
the Apocalypse, reproves for declension from the Christian faith, and
who thus exhorts them: “Be watchful, and strengthen the things which
remain, that are ready to die; for I have not found thy works perfect
before God:” They despised the admonition; and when Julian attempted
to restore paganism, he re-erected in this town all the pagan altars
that had been prostrated; and when the Mohammedans invaded Asia Minor,
Sardis, like the rest, fell into the power of the inveterate enemies of
Christianity.
Sardis, now called Sart by the Turks, has not any collection of human
habitations. The only temporary occupants are the hordes of marauding
Turcomans, who, with their camels and their flocks, sometimes pitch
their tents on the plains, and, when the herbage is exhausted, pass
to other places. Ruins scattered over an extensive surface, intimate
the existence of a former city, whose name would not be recognized and
ascertained, but for the permanent characters of nature which surround
it, and still remain unchanged. As Diana was the great deity, and chief
object of adoration to the Ephesians, so Cybele was to the Lydians,
among whom she was said to be born. Her great temple stood at Sardis.
On the plain is still seen the remnant of a noble edifice of which the
five columns still standing supported a vast mass of marble, exciting
the wonder of the ancients by what power it could be raised so high.
It now lies a prostrate fragment, serving only as an indication of the
structure to which it belonged. The remains of the Gerusia, or House
of Crœsus, are considerable, and consist of brick-work remarkable for
its durability. But the objects of greatest interest to the Christian
visiter are the ruins of two Churches, those of the Panayia and St.
John. Among “the Seven Churches,” these are perhaps the only actual
edifices of early Christian worship, that can be distinguished at the
present day.
At the extremity of the plain is the hill of the Acropolis, at this
day representing, by its shape and position, what the ancient site
is described to be. Its front is a triangular inclined plane, not
difficult to approach; its rear was an abrupt precipice, supposed to be
inaccessible. The view from the summit is commanding, and includes the
vast plain of the Hermus, the tomb of Halyattes, and the Gygean lake.
When Antiochus besieged the city, he observed that vultures and birds
of prey were gathered about offals thrown from the fortress above,
and he sagaciously inferred that the wall of this place was low, and
negligently watched. It is added, that a Persian soldier, allured by
a high reward, attempted to climb the dangerous precipice; and having
done so, he descended, and pointed out the way to his companions,
who followed him, and entered the citadel. The front aspect of the
Acropolis, which is accurately represented in our Illustration, exactly
corresponds with this detail. Behind the Acropolis rise the ridges of
mount Tmolus, covered with snow, and once celebrated for vines and
saffron, odoriferous shrubs, and the longevity of its inhabitants.
These properties of nature it retains to this day, and travellers
speak of its balmy air, and the rich fragrance that is wafted from
its aromatic herbs. In it the celebrated Pactolus took its rise, and,
pouring down its auriferous streams, enriched the capital with such
abundance of gold, that mythologists accounted for it in their fanciful
manner. The mountain has parted with all its auriferous particles,
and the golden reservoir is exhausted, but the sands are still of a
ruddy hue, and justify the name of the “Golden Pactolus.” The splendid
remains of Sardis are calculated to recall early impressions, and
excite the most solemn reflections. Once the capital of the richest
kingdom on earth, and her name associated with mighty events, she
affords now no permanent habitation to any human being, while her whole
Christian population is comprised in _two_ servants of a Mohammedan
miller in the vicinity.
[Illustration: T. Allom. J. W. Lowry.
THE PALACE OF SAÏD PASHA.
ON ONE OF THE RAPIDS OF THE BOSPHORUS.]
The first objects that present themselves on ascending the Bosphorus,
are the palaces of the several female members of the imperial family,
hanging, as it were, over the water. They display long fronts, with
coarse balconies of wood, having little of architectural beauty to
recommend them. Each balcony is supported by sloping beams of timber,
the upper projecting beyond the lower, so as to impend over the water,
leaving a narrow quay as the public street beneath. The windows are
closed up with more than Turkish jealousy. The lattices are dense and
impervious to all view, leaving only one minute aperture, to which the
inmate of the harem applies her eye when she wishes to contemplate the
busy and living picture continually before her.
The first of these palaces is that of the Asmé Sultana, the sister of
the present sultan. It is distinguished by its brazen doors, and by the
sounds of music continually issuing from it, particularly at night;
when concerts attract multitudes of boats, and caïques of all sizes,
filled with company of every grade, crowd the Bosphorus before it. Next
this is the palace of the sultan’s daughter, the princess Sahilé, and
beside it the humbler edifice of her spouse−-the difference of rank
still scrupulously observed, that the son-in-law may not forget that
he is married to the daughter of the sultan. Immediately beyond is
the palace of Saïd Pasha, lately united to the princess Mirameh, the
youngest marriageable daughter of the imperial family. The pasha has
availed himself of the privilege denied to the rayah, by painting his
house of “a rosy hue,” alluding, it is said, that emblematic colour, to
the happiness of his nuptial state.
Immediately below the palace is one of the rapids called by the Greeks
_Megalé roë_, and by the Turks, _Buyuk akindisi_, over which the stream
tumbles sometimes with the velocity and turbulence of a cataract, and
is supposed to be one of the evidences of that awful convulsion which
tore open the strait, and sent the waters of the upper ocean down to
the lower regions in an eternal current. As no vessel can ascend here
by force of oars, it is necessary to tow them. The shore is seen lined
with men holding coils of cord: when a vessel arrives, the efforts of
the crew are suspended; the coil is cast to the ship, and fastened to
the prow; it is then passed over the shoulders of a long line of men,
and by main force, and most laborious exertions, the largest and most
ponderous ships of the Black sea are thus dragged up the descent, with
a bodily strength and perseverance which a Turkish hammal alone can
exert. When the lighter caïque arrives, it ascends with little labour.
The passenger then wraps a few paras in a morsel of paper, throws them
ashore to the robust assistants, the tow is thrown off, and the light
caïque, now arrived at the summit, shoots on its way. The introduction
of steam-boats was opposed, as depriving so many persons of a means of
support, but they are now used for larger vessels, and partly abridge
this painful toil.
[Illustration: T. Allom. E. Benjamin.
THE RUINS OF HIERAPOLIS.--NOW CALLED PAMBOUK KALESI.
ON THE WAY FROM LAODICEA.
ASIA MINOR.]
Hierapolis, or “the Sacred City,” stands on the confines of ancient
Caria and Lydia, in Asia Minor, and a few miles from Laodicea. It is
now called _Pambouk kalesi_, the first part of the name signifies
“cotton,” from a very singular phenomenon. On approaching the place,
the traveller sees before him the sloping face of a hill, of a pure
white, and apparently fleecy texture, swelling into little eminences,
and resembling a mass of wool laid upon the surface, and as if slightly
agitated by the wind. The soil abounds with hot springs, and this
singular appearance is a pure white concrete substance, generated by
the water flowing over the steep, and leaving behind a chalky deposit.
On being tested with acids, it is found to ferment; and like the
dropping-well at Knaresborough, and from the same cause, leaving behind
it an incrustated surface of carbonate of lime wherever it flows. The
abundance of this concrete deposit was so great formerly, that it
performed the function of Amphion’s lyre, and raised spontaneous walls.
The water was conducted round edifices and enclosures, and the channels
then became long fences of a single stone. When the rill first drips
over any surface, it leaves behind it a lurid appearance, resembling
wet salt, or half-dissolved snow. Several of the vineyards and gardens
are now fenced with this substance.
Over the summit of this chalky cliff appear the remains of Hierapolis.
These consist of the ruins of a stadium, and amphitheatre, which no
ancient town, yet discovered, has been without; they were the most
indispensable, and the most permanently built. The meanest as well as
the most insignificant cities seem to have thought them necessary to
their well-being. Mixed with these are numerous sarcophagi, with and
without covers; the whole occupying a space of one mile in length; and
among the inscriptions found are some celebrating this city for its hot
springs, declaring it to be revered over Asia for its salubrious rills.
It was, therefore, dedicated to Apollo, who, with Æsculapius and
Hygeia, appear on the medals which remain. They had another property,
that of assisting the tincture extracted from vegetable dyes, and
imparting to wool its richest purple.
Besides its hot springs, Hierapolis was distinguished by a very
remarkable and deleterious exhalation, called very properly,
_plutonium_, as appertaining to the key of the infernal regions.
This was a small excavation in an adjoining mountain, having an area
before it of four or five hundred yards in circumference. This space
was always filled with a dense vapour, so that the bottom could not
be discerned. Like the modern Grotto del Cane, this vapour was mortal
to those who breathed it; bulls and other animals were driven into
the enclosure, and immediately fell down suffocated; and birds, as at
Averno, dropped senseless when attempting to fly across it. The priests
of Cybele, availing themselves of this mephitic cavern, pretended to
work a miracle. They alone were able to walk through the exhalation
unhurt. The imposture is easily detected; the vapour is carbonic acid
gas, like that of the grotto in Italy; it is a dense and heavy fluid,
which does not rise high above the ground. Animals, whose heads are
immersed in it, are immediately suffocated; but those who walk erect,
above the surface, pass through it with impunity.
[Illustration: T. Allom. W. Floyd.
PHILADELPHIA.
CALLED BY TURKS ALLAH SHER, THE CITY OF GOD.]
Of all the churches of the Apocalypse, Philadelphia retains more of
its former Christian character than any other. Ephesus and Sardis _are
not_ but Philadelphia _is_; and the profession of Christianity is not
only cherished there by a large population, but it is presided over by
a Christian bishop; and while the cooing of turtle-doves in every tree,
the mansion of the filial stork in every roof, and sundry other objects
of nature, of soothing sound and placid aspect, reminds the traveller
of its Christian name, Philadelphia, or “brotherly love,” the Turks, as
if to mark its former sanctity, now call it Allah Sher, or the “City of
God.” The inhabitants, too, are of a most urbane character, and have
obtained for themselves, in the barbarism that surrounds them, the
eulogy of being a “kind and civil people.”
The city was originally built, like many others that long adorned
Asia Minor, by descendants of the enterprising soldiers that followed
Alexander the Great in his Persian expedition; who, after carrying war
and its destructive train into the countries of the East, compensated
their ravages by building cities in the place of those they had
destroyed, and leaving behind them the arts and language of Greece.
Attalus Philadelphus selected a site at the foot of Mount Tmolus, and
called it Philadelphus, after himself. When Christianity expanded,
the inhabitants early received the Gospel, and it became one of the
churches distinguished by the Evangelist among the seven. He eulogizes
it as that which “kept the word of God, and denied not his name.”
An impression remained on the minds of the people, derived perhaps
from their interpretation of the Apocalypse, that their city never
had and never would be taken. When, therefore, the Moslems inflicted
ruin and desolation on other Christian communities, the inhabitants of
Philadelphia despised them. They had heard that they had “laid waste
defenced cities into ruinous heaps,” yet they read that “by the way
they came, they should return,” and “not come into this city.” They
therefore made a vigorous resistance, and though remote from the sea,
and bereft of all maritime aid, they, for near a century, and long
after other Christian cities had been destroyed, repelled all the
attempts of the Osmanli. At length, exhausted by famine, they could
make no further resistance, and fell under the superior power of
Ilderim, the Turkish Thunderbolt.
The town stands upon a hill, and, like all Greek cities, ascends to an
acropolis. Around the base expands a singularly rich country, even now
in a high state of cultivation, divided into gardens and vineyards, and
beyond them one of those verdant and fertile plains which distinguish
Asia Minor. There are few remains of antiquity which mark the era when
Grecian art flourished. Such walls and masses of masonry as now stand,
belong to the time of the Lower Empire. Among the barbarous remnants of
those times is a wall of human bones, cemented together, near the town,
and said to be evidence of the massacre perpetrated by Bajazet, who
formed the structure as a monument of the terrible effects of resisting
his wrath. It is a companion for the pyramid of human heads which his
rival Tamerlane erected on similar occasions.
The present Christian population amount to about 1800. They have 25
churches, but the greater part of them are disused, except once in the
year: in five only is weekly service regularly performed. The remains
of ancient Christian churches, of an era immediately succeeding the
Apocalypse, are still shown; particularly one dedicated to him who saw
and recorded the vision.
The illustration represents, in the foreground, the remains of the
walls of the city. They were originally of great strength, and formed a
triple defence, like those of Constantinople. Two no longer exist, but
the inner still stands, with many of its bastions and circular towers.
Beyond is the present city, displaying the evidence of a populous town.
The bristling minarets and swelling domes indicate a numerous Moslem
population, said to amount to 15,000 persons. In the background are the
ridges of Mount Tmolus.
[Illustration: T. Allom. E. Challis.
PASS IN THE BALKAN MOUNTAINS ON THE BULGARIAN SIDE.]
The chain of the Balkans generally consists of three parallel ridges,
having valleys of exceeding beauty between them. But in some places
on the north side, the lower ridge seems obliterated; the descent is
very precipitous, and the face of the mountain, like a vast wall,
descends almost perpendicularly to the plain below, uninterrupted by
any lesser eminence. This is particularly the case with the pass by
Philippopoli and Tatar Bazaar. When the traveller stands upon the
summit-ridge, he sees the plain of Bulgaria below him, extending its
horizontal surface to the Danube, like the sea, to what seems to him
an interminable distance. The roads down this side are not only steep,
but dangerous, and frequent accidents happen to travellers from the
abrupt and sudden descent of the pass. Winding down the narrow defiles
on a rugged path, scarcely broad enough for one to pass; when two meet
going in an opposite direction, the peril is awful. Neither can go
back or turn aside, and one is often precipitated into the gulf below.
This danger is increased, and more frequently occurs, from trains of
horses laden with iron, the produce of mines found in the recesses of
the mountains. The horses travel in a single file, and bound to each
other by cords. When one falls over the edge of the precipice, he is
generally supported by the rest of the train, till he regains his path
and footing. This precaution is taken by other travellers, but baggage
horses, from the greater weight and more unmanageable burdens, very
often are precipitated over the edge, and disappear into the gulf
below, where they are suffered to lie, without any fruitless attempt to
follow or regain the baggage. To obviate such accidents, the Surrogee,
or Tartar janissary who attends the traveller, stops at the entrance
of a dangerous pass, and, drawing his pistols, discharges them into it
several times, waiting for some space for a reply. If one is returned
in the same manner, it intimates that the defile is already occupied by
others, and the party wait their issuing forth. If no return be made to
the discharges, they pass on.
Our illustration represents a steep descent from the village of Intiman
into the ravine below, and, after fording the mountain-torrent in the
bottom of the gulf, the equally steep ascent on the other side. On
climbing this, the plain of Bulgaria appears before the traveller, from
the summit, in all the luxuriance of verdure and fertility, and leads
him to Sophia, the ancient capital of Bulgaria, where the ashes of its
kings repose.
[Illustration: T. Allom. J. Tingle.
MOSQUE OF SULTAN SELIM AT SCUTARI.]
On the eastern mouth of the Bosphorus, opposite Constantinople, and,
like it, rising from the waters up an inclined plane, stands the
large town of Scutari, associated with many historic and classic
recollections. When the Persian armies carried ruin to the Greek
colonies on the Asiatic coast, and prepared to add Europe to their
conquests, they formed a depôt on a promontory at the mouth of the
Bosphorus, of all their rich plunder; and so great was the accumulation
of wealth of all kinds in this place, that the town built on the
spot was called Chrysopolis, or “the City of Gold.” The point of the
promontory was named Bous, or “The Ox,” from a tradition that it
was here that Iö landed in the shape of a cow, when she swam across
the strait to escape the persecutions of Juno. It was just under
this promontory that the Athenians defeated the fleets of Philip of
Macedon, when he laid siege to Byzantium. It was here that Licinius,
the brother-in-law of Constantine, was taken prisoner, and afterwards
beheaded, which gave the undivided empire of the East to Constantine,
and enabled him to build his new and splendid city on the opposite
promontory, when he had rid himself of his last rival; and, finally, it
was here the crusaders first contemplated it, indulged in their visions
of rapacity, and conceived the project of plundering this capital of
their fellow-christians.