Chapter V

St. Sophia--Armenian religion--Mustapha--Departure from
Constantinople--The Hellespont--Change of climate--Tomb of
Patroclus--Greek quadrille--Throwing the ball--Vintage dance--
Greek seas--Sirocco--Mytilene--Pocket winds--Gulph of Smyrna--
City of Smyrna--Madame Maracinis--“Of course”--Hind cutter.

While I was at Constantinople, two circumstances occurred of a remarkable character--at least the Christians as well as the Turks deemed them so. The Turkish fleet had gone down to the Sea of Marmora for exercise. The Sultan one day went in his steam-boat to inspect them, and as he was ascending to the Admiral’s ship, his diamond-hiked ataghan, which was fixed as usual in his cincture, by some accident got entangled with a rope and fell into the sea! It was the most ancient weapon of that kind in his possession; he wore it on state occasions as one of the most peculiar tokens of his legitimate succession to the throne, and it was now lost beyond all hope of recovery, for the waters were unfathomable!

♦ ST. SOPHIA ♦

The same week the capital was visited by a succession of high winds and heavy rains, during which one of the domes of the celebrated temple of St. Sophia, now a mosque, fell in! Like the domes of St. Mark at Venice, the concaves of these structures were ornamented with mosaiques, the _ground_ of which, if I may use such an expression in an inverted sense, consisted of small solid squares of glass, gilt under the surface--that is to say, the original glass surface is gilt, and then another surface is added to it by a process of fusion with the details of which I am unacquainted. I went to visit this mosque, without having obtained a firman for the purpose, and saw a number of men engaged in removing the ruins of the dome, amongst which they found an abundance of these mosaique glasses. I bought a few of them as memorials of an event which, taken in coincidence with the other just mentioned, was imagined by many persons to be ominous of great changes in the Ottoman empire.

♦ ARMENIAN RELIGION ♦

I am, I must confess, very much disposed to think that the Armenian form of religion--which is Roman Catholic--will sooner or later prevail over both the Greek and the Mahometan in that country. The Greek priests at Constantinople are a grossly ignorant and mean-looking set of men, who are incapable of exercising any influence whatever on the people around them; whereas the Armenian clergy are well-educated, always neatly attired, respectable in their persons, of grave demeanour, and most exemplary conduct. I usually heard mass in one of their churches, and I was struck by the solemnity with which they performed all the offices of the divine service. They have no organs, but they are never without choirs of men, from whose fine bass voices the ancient Gregorian Kyrie Eleison, Gloria in Excelsis, Credo and Canon, came forth like the resound of the primitive ages of the church.

Though unable to enter St. Sophia, I saw sufficient of the building on the outside to prevent me from taking the trouble of procuring a firman. It is a great lumbering-looking edifice, devoid of every feature of architectural beauty. I went, however, with my friend Mustapha, to visit the mosque of Suliman the Magnificent, which, together with that of the Sultan Mehemet, may be considered as among the finest specimens of Moorish taste now in existence. They are spacious, airy, and extremely graceful-looking edifices; but they have an unfinished appearance in the interior, for they are _still_ without their _destined_ altars!

♦ MUSTAPHA ♦

♦ DEPARTURE ♦

Mustapha, by the way, is a character, and a good one. I believe he was originally a Maltese; he speaks English well, and has lived with the successive British consuls at Pera for more than twenty years. He is the consul’s factotum, and for this reason, found it convenient to adopt the turban. Whenever I wanted his assistance to go over the mosques or bazaars, Mr. Cartwright most kindly gave him permission to attend me. He is a cheerful, willing, intelligent fellow, with a look of _bonhommie_ which at once prepossessed me in his favour. He is full of anecdote, never tired of walking or talking, and feels it a point of honour not to let an Englishman depart from Stamboul without having seen “all the lions,” including even the “slave-market,” which I regret to say still exists. However, I am assured that this disgrace to the metropolis of a reforming sultan will soon be removed. Having staid ten days at Constantinople, I became anxious to set out on my way home, and accordingly took my passage for Smyrna in the _Spitfire_ sailing packet which, luckily for me, had been detained a week beyond its usual time, by the continued prevalence of southerly winds. Towards evening, on the day after I made my engagement with the captain, the wind changed to the north, and as every thing had been prepared, our anchor was raised at eight o’clock (26th Oct.) and we proceeded down the Marmora with all our canvass right before the breeze. I turned into my berth at ten, and never awoke until seven the next morning, when I was delighted to find that we were rapidly approaching the Hellespont. The morning was misty, but soon after we passed Gallipoli, and entered that celebrated canal, the sun shone out, and displayed in bright colours the castles of Abydos and Sestos. The captain, Mitchell, an Englishman, an excellent sailor, a truly hospitable provider, and in every way an obliging and well-conducted person, pointed out to us the spot whence Lord Byron swam across the sea from one shore to the other. The beauties of the Hellespont are not to be compared with those of the Bosphorus. The hills on either side are low and monotonous; nevertheless, here and there a cottage prettily situated, a garden neatly cultivated, a brook shining in its silver path down the gentle declivity, brought back to my mind in brilliant colours those happy thoughts of early days, when Homer and Euripides were seldom out of my hands. The former, by the way, though he frequently mentions the Hellespont, usually designates it as the “broad Hellespont,” an epithet to which no one would think it entitled who had ever entered it for the first time, from the sea of Marmora. It is very nearly as narrow as the Bosphorus as far as the Dardanelles, where it opens into a magnificent sheet of water, which probably the bard had frequently contemplated from the Trojan shore.

♦ THE HELLESPONT ♦

I had heard that vast preparations were in progress for repairing and strengthening the fortifications of the Dardanelles, both on the European and Asiatic banks of the strait; but I observed no symptom of activity about them, though in consequence of the wind failing us just as we came in sight of the castles, we were obliged to tack from side to side, and thus obtained a near view of both. We sailed slowly by the Troy founded by Alexander, on what he deemed to be the ruins of the Troy of Homer. The topographers have settled the controversies upon this subject by assigning to the latter what is now a barren plain--but though barren and desolate to the eye, teeming with memories destined only to perish with the sun by which, as we passed, they were illuminated.

♦ CHANGE OF CLIMATE ♦

We all felt to be in a new climate--the climate of the ripened spring, as the mountains of Ipsara, Tenedos, and Mytilene rose upon our vision. The air was clear and warm; and the sky, and waters, and distant hills were clad in the same transparent robes of azure. Here and there upon the “broad Hellespont” Greek boats, with their striped picturesque sails, were crossing the waves, or stealing along the shore, where the landscape was animated by flocks of sheep and goats, and peopled by the creations of a mind that to this hour has found no rival amongst a race of beings to which he scarcely seemed to belong.

♦ TOMB OF PATROCLUS ♦

I by no means regretted the faithlessness of our breeze, while we remained for hours becalmed in such a sea--the “broad Hellespont”--within view of the tomb of Patroclus, the companion, the Mentor, the champion of Achilles, and of the scenes of their matchless glory. The captain told me that some of the ancient games and dances, described by Homer as practised at the funeral of Patroclus, were still in some degree imitated in parts of Asia Minor which he had visited, especially the dance, which, from his meagre account of it, I collected to be that of the Labyrinth, the most general and fascinating “quadrille” of antiquity. The figure was arranged on the idea of the famous Labyrinth of Crete, and according to the fashion which Dædalus prescribed for Ariadne. Youths and maidens of distinction assembled together arrayed in their most splendid attire. The ladies, who had previously bathed and anointed their delicate limbs with fragrant oil, appeared in snow-white flowing vests, which were bound across the bosom with golden clasps, and cinctured beneath it with a golden zone fringed deeply with the same costly material. The vest extended to the ancles. The feet, to the shape and lustre of which the greatest attention was paid, were bound, or rather displayed, in beautiful light sandals. The arms were uncovered from that part where the armlet of gold, or precious stones, was clasped round the short sleeve of the vest, and the nails were dyed with a roseate hue, justifying the epithet of rosy-fingered. The shining hair was braided and pressed by a wreath of flowers on this occasion, though in most other instances of public appearance the head was more timidly concealed under a veil, which hung like a bright cloud over the countenance, and flowed abundantly on the back and bosom. Golden pendants, enriched with jewels, were suspended from the ears, which were pierced for the purpose, and a necklace of amber beads, connected by links of gold, completed the costume.

♦ GREEK QUADRILLE ♦

The youths were clad in fine tunics of glazed linen, and they wore their falchions sheathed in gold, and suspended by silver belts. The youths, each holding his partner by the hand, all stood up in a circle, and after various evolutions to the music of a harp, the object of which was to imitate the windings of the Labyrinth, they resumed their original positions, and then, mingling their voices in unison with that of the bard, they sung, while two professional tumblers wheeled their course down and back through a passage opened for them in the middle.

The performers were most admired when their steps were most rapid, and at intervals they smote the earth with the whole measure of the foot, stamping to the time of the music. After the dance was concluded, the Bard sung to his harp some comic or sprightly theme, such as the loves of Mars and Venus, and the ingenious stratagem which Vulcan formed in order to detect them. This was a favourite semi-dramatic composition, and the ludicrous situation of the hero and the beauty in the golden net, as well as that of the blubbering, limping blacksmith of the skies, as depicted by the Bard, uniformly excited shouts of laughter. It is said that this piece was the first that gave rise to comedy.

♦ THROWING THE BALL ♦

The interlude being finished, and the applause by which it was generally followed having subsided, two youths of distinction, who excelled in dancing, advanced into the circle. They first received a ball, covered with purple, which one, bending back, threw into the air. The other jumping high, received it in his hand before his feet touched the ground. When they had thus preluded awhile, they displayed their utmost skill in dancing, and during the performance they mutually interchanged the purple ball. The prince of the district, the male part of his family, and a great crowd of the people, attended these entertainments. They took place in the middle of the day, were conducted with great regularity, and were manifestly productive of the greatest gratification to the spectators.

♦ VINTAGE DANCE ♦

The love of dancing was common to all orders of society, in ancient, especially Asiatic, Greece. What can be more delightful than the picture which is presented to us by Homer, of the close of an evening in the vintage season? When the gatherers made up their last baskets of the mellow grapes, they proceeded homeward, youths and maidens as they were, in a processional order. In the midst of the line a boy sounded a shrill harp, which best suited his young voice, as well as the delicate tones of the female vintagers who accompanied it. They bounded, rather than danced, along the path, snapping their fingers together, the virgin, singing to the music, the youths marking each cadence with a loud shout.

During the long winter nights they often amused themselves with tales, which each person told in turn. Bards and roving mendicants were particularly prized for the entertainment which they afforded in this way. The state of society was also such as to furnish many interesting materials for these narratives. The servant sitting at the fireside, after tending the flocks all day, or driving the plough, or finishing his household labours, was, perhaps, notwithstanding his menial situation, the son of wealthy, or even princely, parents, living in some remote island, from whose protection he was kidnapped in early youth, and sold as a slave by the avaricious Phœnicians, or other inhuman pirates of the age. He would relate the stories and customs of his country, or the adventures and perils which he encountered on his voyage. These were often marvellous enough, or made so by the genius which the Greeks have always had for fiction.

♦ GREEK SEAS ♦

There is a beauty about these seas which must be seen in order to be fully appreciated. The waters are so transparent that I could very clearly see the fishes disporting themselves at some distance beneath the surface. The atmosphere is so pure, and the sky so serene, that every object moving in the sea, or visible on the land, was defined in all that exactness of form which stamps the picture as the work of a master. The sails of distant vessels coming down or going up the Hellespont, looked as white as snow.

♦ SIROCCO ♦

The sun set behind the peak of Tenedos, and we floated onwards with baffling winds until we passed Cape Baba, where we were met by the sirocco, or south wind, which I experienced for the first time, and found rather uncomfortable. The stars shone out in all their radiance, and the mountains and headland heights stood out distinctly revealed, not a vapour streaking the boundless firmament.

Our cutter rolled a good deal during the night, the wind blowing right against us. We contrived, however, to work our way the following morning (28th October) into Sigri, an excellent little harbour in the western coast of the island of Mytilene, where we cast anchor. We were scarcely snug in our berth when a hard gale came on, and continued to blow the greater part of the day; even the waters in the harbour were so much agitated that we were unable to go ashore for several hours. Three or four merchant brigs came in soon after us, apparently pleased with their good fortune in having escaped the fury of the storm.

Towards evening I went ashore with the captain. The village was crowded with Turkish pilgrims, who had landed from two of the brigs, which were bound for Alexandria. The village was a picture of wretchedness, protected by an old fortification, which I attempted to enter, but the guard refused me permission to pass beyond the gates. I went into an old mosque, the minaret of which had fallen down; the whole building threatened to follow its example. I bought some melons and grapes, which were tolerably good. Port dues were demanded of us, which, after some negotiation, the captain paid.

♦ MYTILENE ♦

When we returned to the cutter the sea was perfectly calm in our harbour. A fine turtle floated on the surface, but it disappeared before we could catch it “napping.” The sun set in more than ordinary splendour behind the small high island of Istrate, at some distance from us, but his last rays continued to glow for awhile upon the varied and rugged heights of Mytilene. A golden flood of light was in the air behind Istrate, while the skies all around were tinged with a roseate hue. At night lightnings played on the Lesbian hills around us, and the fishes that came now and then to the surface of the waves sparkled like fire flies, with all the beauteous colours of the rainbow. Not a star was to be seen in the upper regions of the heavens, which were as dark as the face of an Ethiop.

♦ POCKET WINDS ♦

We got under weigh at eight in the morning (29th), and proceeded on our course towards Smyrna, leaving behind us the brigs, which we were informed had been contending for the last seven days against the south winds, so that our friendly breeze seemed not to have at all passed beyond the Dardanelles. I remarked this to our captain, who observed, in his good-humoured way, “Lord bless you! sir, nothing is surprising in the Egean seas. I can assure you that I have often seen four or five ships, who had been together for awhile, all tack off suddenly in different, and even opposite, directions, as if each captain had a wind of his own in his pocket!” In point of fact, our northern ally did not accompany us even so far as the Dardanelles; we were borne beyond them by the current, which set down through the Hellespont, so that we literally outran our wind.

Ipsara came in sight, but was soon lost again amidst the vapours brought on by a squall which compelled us to ride under bare poles. Then the sun shone out as brilliantly as ever, disclosing towards the south the magnificent mountain ranges of Chios, those of Mytilene still frowning on our left in all their ruggedness. We passed by the mouth of the harbour of Caloni, which runs into the middle of the island. The weather continued squally and variable until evening, when the north wind, having again conquered all his foes, found us out once more, and we steered right for the gulph of Smyrna. A heavy sea rolled out against us from the Gulph of Sandarlick, against which we had to contend for some time; at length we found ourselves on the smooth waters of the Gulph of Smyrna, and proceeded gallantly on our way, although the rain poured down in torrents, and the atmosphere was loaded with vapour. The wind having again failed in his duties towards us, we were obliged, very much against our captain’s usual disposition, to let go the anchor at ten o’clock.

♦ GULPH OF SMYRNA ♦

Our admirable little cutter was once more under full sail at daybreak (30th). The shores of the Bay of Smyrna were unfortunately covered with dense clouds; these, however, cleared off partially now and then, and opened views of scenery, which, when beheld in all their extent and beauty, are, I have been informed, very little inferior to those of the bay of Naples. The bay of Smryna is wholly surrounded by hills, some of which are curiously peaked; and beneath them, towards the sea, are olive plantations, gardens, groves, villas, mosques, and minarets, dispersed with the most picturesque effect.

♦ CITY OF SMYRNA ♦

The city of Smyrna was soon within sight, and before it were anchored upwards of a hundred vessels of all nations, including an Austrian ship of war, bearing the flag of Admiral Dandolo, and the British cutter _Hind_, commanded by Lieutenant Coleman. The wind blew strongly almost right against us, which compelled our captain to tack constantly almost from shore to shore, under full sail, the edge of our vessel, and sometimes the mainsail itself, being washed by the rough and foaming waves. It was well that we had the utmost confidence in our captain’s discretion, as otherwise it is very certain, according to the opinion of several English seamen, who observed our course with great anxiety, that we had too much canvas spread, and that we ran every moment the risk of running under the waters altogether to an unexpected grave.

At ten we happily anchored, but it was noon before we could land, on account of the violent agitation of the sea. I went to Madame Maracini’s very comfortable hotel, where I took up my quarters. I lost no time however in proceeding to Salvo’s, the great resort of our naval officers, where some eight or ten midshipmen were engaged at billiards. They informed me that the British fleet was at Vourla, a well sheltered harbour on the southern shore towards the mouth of the gulph; that H. M. S. the _Portland_, which had joined the fleet a few days before, was ordered to proceed to Napoli, to relieve the _Madagascar_, which was going home, but that it must have departed the evening before, and that I had no chance of being in time to procure a passage to Greece.

♦ MADAME MARACINI’S ♦

Upon further enquiry I learned that a small packet plied regularly between Smyrna and Napoli; that it had sailed for that destination a few days before; would have to perform a quarantine of seven days; then return, wait for ten days at Smyrna, and then sail again for Napoli. This was still more disagreeable intelligence, as the idea of being obliged to remain at Smyrna for nearly three weeks was by no means in accordance with my views. By some accident I learned that a Mr. Lewis, brother of the English clergyman who is stationed at Smyrna, had been lately at Vourla, and that he could probably give me some information as to the movements of the _Portland_. I found this gentleman at his brother’s residence, and learned from him that his leave of absence as a military officer being expired he was desirous of obtaining a passage to Greece, and thence to Malta on his way home; that he had been a week ago to Vourla, heard that the _Portland_ was daily expected, but that as soon as it had shipped on-board the _Caledonia_ two thousand stand of arms, which it was to bring out, it would not delay a moment in getting under weigh for Napoli, and that “of course” it had already gone.

♦ “OF COURSE.” ♦

♦ THE “HINDE” CUTTER ♦

♦ PASSAGE TO GREECE ♦

Now these words “of course” have, under all circumstances, appeared to me to be the least convincing phrases of argument in our language. I perfectly well knew that my good friend the north wind, which only the evening before had blown right into the gulph, would have necessarily detained the _Portland_ at Vourla; that during the whole morning the weather was rough, and the wind variable, and that if the _Portland_ had departed at all, it most certainly had not gone “of course,” unless, like some of the magical vessels described by my late captain, it had got in its pocket a wind of its own. I paid a visit to the _Hinde_ cutter, where I was received in the handsomest manner by Lieutenant Coleman, who rather to my annoyance seemed altogether ignorant of the words “of course.” They were not in his dictionary. The _Portland_, he said, had arrived four days ago, was under immediate orders for sailing to Napoli, and _must_ have gone. What! with the wind against her? Yes--she was _ordered_ to be off, and must have tacked out! He then took me to his cabin, and produced a decanter of capital sherry and some biscuits; whereupon we talked away as if we had been the most intimate friends of forty years. On my taking leave he said that he was going down to the fleet the next morning, and if I had any fancy for taking a peep at that superb spectacle, he would be most happy to give me a passage, which would only occupy two or three hours if the wind were fair. I readily accepted his offer. On returning from the _Hinde_ I called on my late friends of the _Spitfire_, who assured me that the agent of the fleet had still some stores to transmit to the _Portland_, and that, considering the state of the weather, which had again become squally, it would be impossible for that ship to “be off” until the next morning. “Now, I know,” said Walker, “that you are a lucky fellow, and that if you be not wanting to yourself, you will get your passage to Greece.”