seen that of the seraglio. This gate, distinguished by its lofty arch,
was therefore called Babu Hummayoun, or “the high door,” by the Turks,
which the French translate into “Sublime Porte:”[2] the term has become
a designation for the cabinet of Turkish diplomacy, as before noticed.
The gate was originally erected by Mahomet II. when he entered the
Christian capital, and converted the residence of the priests of Santa
Sophia into a palace for himself. It consists of a massive and clumsy
pavilion, formerly crowned with turrets; it is pierced by the high door
from which it takes its name, and under the arch is an inscription on
a broad tablet. Above are one large and three smaller apertures for
windows at each side, and below, the dead wall is excavated by two
deep niches. It has undergone changes for improvements, but it still
resembles rather the strong-hold of a military station, than the great
entrance to the most extensive and gorgeous palace in the world; yet
it is from hence the sultans of the East for centuries dictated to the
sovereigns of Europe, and issued the mandates of the “high door” from
the city, or of “the imperial stirrup” from the field.
Much of the brutal and bloody barbarism which the Osmanli brought with
them into Europe, is still displayed in their most characteristic
manner at this imperial gate. Here it is that noses and ears are
exhibited as trophies of victory, like Indian scalps. In the year 1822,
the conqueror of Patrass sent many sacks of those trophies; they were
shaken out before the Babu Hummayoun, and formed two large piles of
various mutilated portions of the human countenance; and through these
ghastly and festering heaps of his subjects’ flesh, the sultan and his
officers passed every day, till they rotted and dissolved away. In the
niches, the heads of deposed Turkish officers were exposed; and the
ambassadors of European sovereigns proceeding to an audience, saw them
kicked about in sport and derision, and were threatened themselves with
being pelted with human sculls. Within the gate, the heads of pashas
of rank, Halet Effendi, Ali Pasha, and other great delinquents, were
allowed the indulgence of silver dishes to support them, and were daily
exposed to the multitude, like that of John the Baptist, in a charger.
[Illustration: T. Allom. W. J. Cooke.
THE CASTLE OF SMYRNA.]
Ascending from the alluvial and marshy soil below, are seen various
ruins indicating the more healthy and elevated site of the ancient
city. Crowning the summit of Mount Pagus, are what remains of the
Acropolis, consisting of ramparts and embattled walls, flanked by
numerous towers, some of which are square, and some circular. These
walls enclose a very extensive area of many acres, which seem never
to have been built on, or filled with any kind of edifices. It was a
clear space, on which the garrison defending the town pitched their
tents as on a field of battle, so that the whole formed a strong
walled camp.--Here are still seen the remains of a temple, and the
cistern that conveyed water. Here it was the knights of Rhodes took
their stand, when they defended the Christian city against the infidel
invasions. It was dilapidated by Tamerlane and his Tartars, who brought
down the stones from the hill, and threw them into the harbour, in
order at once to destroy both the security and commercial prosperity of
this great emporium of the Oriental Christians. Over one of the gates
is an inscription, implying that the walls were repaired by one of the
Comneni, and his wife Helena. But the most interesting of sculptured
remains, is a bust and head of marble, in good preservation, and
highly finished. It represents a female with a profusion of long hair,
which has given rise to various conjectures; some affirming it to
be part of the statue of the empress Helena, who, with her husband,
rebuilt the fortress. It seems, however, a better specimen than could
be executed during the total decay of the arts of that period, and
displays a boldness of design belonging to a more perfect age of
Grecian skill. It is therefore with greater probability supposed to
represent Smyrna, the heroic Amazon, who, according to Pliny, founded
the city, and conferred on it her own name.
On the slope of the hill on one side, are the ruins of a stadium,
or theatre. The stones were formerly removed to erect a khan, and
displayed under the foundation of the walls, the cells where those wild
beasts were confined, with which the early Christians were compelled
to fight, as St. Paul, “after the manner of men,” at Ephesus. To this
fate, St. Polycarp, the first Christian bishop, was condemned. He was
the disciple of St. John, and appointed by him to superintend his
church of Smyrna. He proceeded to Rome, at the age of one hundred and
four, to confer with the Christians of that city about some subjects
of controversy, which even then divided the infant church; and on his
return he was, by the order of the emperor, thrown to the beasts of
this theatre, and devoured, for the recreation of the assembled people
of one of the most opulent and polished cities of the heathen world:
some, however, say he was burned alive. The persecution of Christians
has distinguished this church of the Apocalypse even in modern times.
In the year 1770, after the defeat of the Turkish fleet, orders were
given by the pasha to retaliate on the Greeks of Smyrna. Armed men were
let loose on them at five o’clock on Sunday morning, who rushed into
their houses, and the churches where they were assembled, and in five
hours one thousand five hundred Greeks were sacrificed in cold blood.
In the year 1822, similar cruelties were perpetrated. The massacre of
Scio extended to Smyrna. For several days the Greeks were hunted out,
and brought, as they were seized, to a spot below the ascent of the
hill, as to a favourite place for immolation. Eight hundred were here
murdered, and their putrid remains were left for a long time tainting
the air, and spreading pestilence among their executioners.
In the front ground of our illustration is a bridge thrown over the
mouth of the Meles, where it debouches into the harbour. Over it is
constantly passing an uninterrupted current of caravans, bearing
merchandise, indicating the immense commercial intercourse of the city.
It is known, that eight hundred laden camels a day, cross the Meles at
this one point. Beside the bridge, is a tree, noted as the instrument
of the summary justice of the Turks. When a suspected delinquent is
seized in the neighbourhood, he is dragged to it, and immediately hung
up to one of the branches.
[Illustration: T. Allom. J. C. Bentley.
THE CITY OF MAGNESIA, AND MOUNT SIPYLUS.]
Two cities in Asia Minor of this name were known to, and recorded by
the ancients: one at the base of a mountain, and called “Magnesia on
Sipylus;” the other on the banks of a river, denominated “Magnesia on
Mæander.”−-The first is that given in illustration.
This city, though not hallowed by the notice of the sacred penman,
or selected as a beacon on which the early light of Christianity
was to shine, has yet many claims on the notice of a traveller.
Mythology and history contribute to the interest it excites, nor is
its name unconnected with the arts and sciences.−-Here it was that
Niobe lamented the loss of her children, and the effects of her grief
still appear in her supposed transformation−-here it was that Scipio
defeated the Asiatic confederacy, and obtained the first permanent
footing in Asia−-and here it was that extraordinary substance was first
discovered, whose properties and affinities have since become the
wonder and guide of man in the trackless ocean.
The city of Magnesia was founded by Tantalus, whose fabled punishment
renders his name so notorious in the world. The situation is striking;
it stands near the foot of a lofty mountain, on the edge of a vast and
fertile plain, and its site and soil resemble those of Brusa; but it
wants those important advantages which the other enjoys. The ridges of
Sipylus afford no perennial snows like those of Olympus, to refresh the
inhabitants below; nor is there any solution of the frigid element,
to ripple in copious currents through the streets, or meander through
the fertile plain. Its site, however, is very beautiful. Above it rise
in majestic grandeur the rugged and romantic precipices of a mountain
once celebrated for its thunder and lightning, and which still seem to
be the shattered and splintered effects of those electric storms; and
below it, lies one of those vast and exuberant levels, which, in Asia
Minor, are found at the base of its hill, endued with the capabilities
of all the luxury of life. This majestic plain is eight or ten miles
in breadth, and fifteen in length. Through the centre flows the river
Hermus, which, like the Pactolus its tributary stream, abounds in
auriferous sands, but, like the Nile, has the more valuable property of
fertilizing its soil, and, by the deposit of its rich mud, producing
golden harvests. This was so remarkable formerly, that medals in honour
of the river were struck, representing its course; having on one side
the branch of a fruit-tree, and on the other a cornucopiæ, emblematic
of its abundant produce. The fate of Turkey has, however, now blasted
it. The luxuriance of a wild vegetation covers its corn-fields, and its
former crops are converted into groves of tamarisk; still it abounds
in many indications of its former state. Gardens and vineyards cover
extensive spaces, verdant pastures are filled with snow-white sheep,
and the landscape is varied by herds of those sable goats peculiar to
Anatolia, whose dark and silky coats contrast in so striking a manner
with their woolly companions. The camel is nowhere more noble and
majestic. The breed is here particularly attended to. They are seen
gaily caparisoned, winding in long lines through the plains, laden with
Oriental produce for exportation, to the mart of Smyrna, where the
camel of Magnesia is particularly prized and admired.
The local attractions have rendered it in all ages the abode of a
numerous community, and the selected residence of the great and the
powerful. It was to Magnesia that Themistocles retired[3] from the
resentment of his fellow-citizens, when the Persian king afforded him
a tranquil retreat, to close his turbulent life. It was here that
Andronicus Palæologus sought repose, when he resigned the sceptre of
the Greek empire, and was no longer able to contend with the growing
power of the Osmanli. Here Turks as well as Christians sought a
retreat. Kiorod, son of Bajazet, and Selim, son of Soliman, dwelt in
Magnesia; and Murad, the father of the mighty Mahomed, the scourge of
Christians, when he abdicated, betook himself to the solitude of this
city, to seek that quiet which a throne denied him; and being again
called to public life, he once more retired to this favourite abode.
The early history of this town is connected with interesting events,
the records of which are still preserved in England. The noble bay of
Smyrna being the great outlet for the produce of the fertile plains of
Magnesia, a league was entered into by these free and polished cities,
for mutual benefit and protection. The citizens of one were admitted to
all the rights and immunities of the other; and the mutual alliance was
ratified by erecting marble pillars in both cities, with the terms of
the compact inscribed on them. One of these interesting documents has
escaped the ravages of time and accident. The tremendous earthquake,
in the reign of Tiberius, that prostrated thirteen noble cities in
Asia, and with them Magnesia, respected this monument, and it is now
preserved among the marbles which enrich the university of Oxford.
The citizens of Magnesia had been long celebrated for their skill in
staining glass, and still retain some beautiful specimens. Travellers
see with surprise, in the houses they enter, the floors covered with
varied forms in vivid colours, and find them caused by “storied
windows, richly dight,” through which the sun’s rays had passed. The
glass here manufactured possesses a brightness and transparency of
colours superior to those of Europe. It is thus that, while the arts
have long fled from this barbarized region to the more polished people
of the west, a beautiful one remained behind, the loss of which Europe
long regretted.
Indications of the wonderful substance to which the city gave its
name, is yet found in the mountain over the town. Pliny affirms that
the appellation of magnet was derived from Magnes, the shepherd, who
discovered it in mount Ida, by the iron attached to his crook; but
Lucretius, the philosophic poet, and others, say it took its name from
the place where it was first found.[4] Travellers in modern times
endeavour to settle the question; they bring with them ship and pocket
compasses, to ascertain the existence of the magnetic stone in this
place. They find the needle pointing to different quarters, as the
compass is moved from place to place, and at length losing its quality
of being attracted altogether; a circumstance known to be the effect
produced on magnetic needles, when brought near other bodies possessing
the same property.
The conversion of Niobe, not into a fountain, but a rock, was an
opinion so universally received by the ancients, that Pausanias
affirms, he himself, in ascending the hill, saw the statue with his own
eyes. This indurated memorial of the tear-dissolved mother, is yet to
be seen as Pausanias saw it 2,000 years ago. On the side of the hill
is the rude fragment of a rock, bearing a semblance to a human form,
which a lively imagination may easily convert into a Niobe. The person
represented, however, has been disputed; some have taken it for the
colossal statue of Cybele, the tutelar deity of the place.
The face of the mountain, ascending from the city, presents the remains
of very extensive fortifications, once occupied by soldiers of various
nations, but at present in a state of entire dilapidation. Its cannon
were removed to Smyrna, and now protect its ancient ally. A more modern
edifice, surrounded by well-timbered woods, attracts more attention.
This is the residence of the present Ayan, or proprietor of the soil,
whose family has been long distinguished in this region. When the
Osmanli made their first inroads on Christian possessions, they secured
them, by establishing, as they advanced, a feudal system. They left
the acquired territory under some military chief, who portioned it
out among his Moslem followers, on the terms of military service when
called upon. These were named Deré beys, or “Lords of the valleys;”
and the rich plains of Asia Minor were divided among them. They were
classed as _Zaims_ or _Timariots_, according to the number of spahis
or cavalry they were bound to supply; and were the only hereditary
nobility in the Turkish empire−-few in numbers, but the petty and
brutal tyrants of their respective territories. To these, however, was
one distinguished exception: the family of Cara Osman Oglou preserved
a high character for many generations, and every traveller who visited
Magnesia spoke of them as liberal and enlightened benefactors of the
territory over which they presided. This nobility is now extinguished;
the energetic Mahomed, in his reforms, reduced this small but tyrannic
oligarchy to the general level, and united, and confined to his own
person, the whole nobility of the empire. The last descendant of the
Oglous was invited to the capital, where he now employs his time and
revenues in mechanical pursuits. He is a cunning shipwright, and has
built a man-of-war, to serve in the Turkish fleet.
The present population of the city is estimated at somewhat more
than 30,000, of which 20,000 are Turks, and the remainder Jews and
Christians. The former have twenty mosques, whose bristling minarets
are seen in our illustration. There are three Greek and Armenian
churches, and two synagogues. In the foreground is represented one of
those Oriental wells, which from the earliest ages were “digged” in the
East, and which now form a conspicuous object in every landscape. A
long horizontal beam of wood is divided into two unequal lengths, and
supported and turned on a perpendicular. On the short arm is placed a
weight which counterpoises the longer and the bucket and cord attached,
when it descends into the well, and is very easily raised by means of
this lever. One of these machines is seen erected in every garden, and,
as irrigation is constantly required in an arid soil, it is always in
motion, and its dull and drowsy creaking is the sound incessantly heard
by all travellers.
[Illustration: T. Allom. J. B. Allen.
INNER COURT OF THE MOSQUE OF SULTAN OSMAN.]
Mahomet III. was distinguished by vice and imbecility; but his reign
was embellished by learned and upright men. Risman Ben Ac Hissar
wrote a treatise on government for the use of his master, which,
notwithstanding the excellent precepts contained in it, seems to have
but little improved his weak and vicious sovereign. The treatise has
come down to us, with many sage maxims. One was−-“that it is the duty
of a prince to govern with equity, for his own interest is concerned
in it: justice is the support of the throne, and Allah requires that
those persons only should be entrusted with power and dignity, who show
themselves worthy of exercising them.” Another, more shrewd, declares
that “a thousand friends are too few, and one enemy too many;” but the
only injunction that seems to have had any weight with the heedless
monarch was, that “he should not only honour and respect the Ulemah
(men of the law,) but promote all his undertakings by securing the
aid of their prayers, for they have the inheritance of the gifts of
the Prophet.” Influenced by this advice, he determined on building a
mosque, and adding another imperial Djami to the capital: in order to
make it more splendid than that of any of his predecessors, he sent
architects to collect the models of the Christian cathedrals in Europe,
that his mosque might be constructed from the perfections of them all.
This heterodox intention, however, was opposed by the Ulemah, who
denounced it as a desecration of a temple dedicated to the Prophet;
and while he hesitated in his architectural plans, and before he had
matured the whole design, death overtook him, and he left his mosque
unfinished.
It was reserved for Osman, or Ottoman, to complete it. His vizir died
immensely rich, and, by the maxims of the Turkish empire, his wealth
reverted to the sovereign. “The Sultan,” says the law, “never loses his
inheritance to wealth, for, cast it upon the ocean, and let it sink to
the bottom, it wall again rise to the surface, and become visible.”
Enabled, it should appear, by this accession of means, he set about
completing the unfinished mosque of his predecessor. This he effected,
though his pious work did not propitiate Allah to alter his decrees
with respect to his own fate; it was very miserable. He was seized by
Daud, his rebellious vizir, and sent a prisoner to the Seven Towers;
here, at the age of nineteen, in the prime of life, vigour of youth,
and bloom of beauty, he was strangled, his features mutilated, and one
of his ears cut off, and sent as a grateful present to his successor.
Notwithstanding the intentions of its first architect, the design
of the mosque of Osman is purely Oriental; yet it has an elegant
appearance. The approach is by an arcade, supported by a colonnade
of light and lofty pillars, enclosing the court. The whole of the
interior is covered by an expansive dome, without any visible
support of columns. Our illustration represents the court with the
congregation gathering for prayers, and some of them engaged in the
usual preparations. Nothing can be more grave and solemn than these.
The people seem impressed with their pious purpose before they enter
the house of prayer. They divest themselves of their gayest apparel,
because they suppose humility of appearance is required before God. As
they approach, the groups appear to be more than usually serious and
silent, as if meditating on what they were about to do. When arrived
at the reservoir of water provided for ablution, they wash their face,
hands, and feet, from a feeling that personal purity is indicative of
purity of the mind. When ascending the steps leading to the entrance,
they deposit their shoes, from a conviction that the place they are
about to enter is holy ground; and before the gate they sometimes
prostrate themselves in reverence to the tomb of the Prophet, whose
relative direction and position is always designated in every mosque.
Before the door is suspended a curtain, which it is necessary to
push aside on entering, and it immediately falls back, to screen the
congregation from profane eyes. The floor is generally covered with
carpets, on which the people kneel, and then fall prostrate on their
faces, resuming occasionally their erect position. During their prayer
there is no turning of the head, no wandering of the eye, to mark any
abstraction of thought, but every faculty both of mind and body seems
wrapt and bound up in the solemn act they are performing. Travellers
who have noticed this total engagement of the attention of a Turk when
he supposes himself in the presence of his Maker, and contrasts it with
the languid and careless inattention so often observed and complained
of in our churches, have remarked, “that Christian men might take a
lesson from men who were not Christians, in what manner they should
worship their common God.”
[Illustration: T. Allom. G. Presbury.
METROPOLITAN CHURCH OF MAGNESIA, ASIA MINOR.
INSTALLATION OF THE BISHOP.]
The existence of the Greek church, and the religion of the Gospel,
among its bitterest enemies, has evinced, at different periods when it
seemed doomed to destruction, a preservation as unexpected as it was
extraordinary. When the conqueror of Constantinople had suffered his
followers to glut their worst passions on the Christians, and their
total extinction was expected, he made a show of unexpected moderation,
and, to the astonishment of all, he sent for the patriarch Gennadius,
appointed him to his Christian pastoral office by placing in his hand
a staff of ebony, and, to do him further honour, after the military
manner of a Turk, he placed the meek minister of the Gospel on a
war-horse richly caparisoned. He then divided the churches equally
between the two sects; half being reserved to the former use, and the
other to the use of the Prophet.