Chapter X: Preface (10)

Thus it happened that several celebrated towns, situated on its banks, are not now to be traced there. The city of Myus stood on a bay; the constant deposit of mud by the river obstructed the ingress of salt-water, and the bay was changed into an inland lake; the alluvial and marshy soil, generated by the slime, afforded a nidus to vast swarms of insects; and so Myus was infested, and called “the city of gnats.” The swarms at this day are an intolerable nuisance; towards evening, the inside of tents become black with them. Myriads of winged insects cling to the poles and canvass. The torture they give is so insupportable, that the sufferers blow them up with gunpowder, and often set fire to their tents, to get rid of a plague equal to any of those of Egypt. Miletus, celebrated for its woollen manufacture and rich dyes−-the birth-place of one of the seven wise men, and the capital of Ionia−-was ruined by the Meander; the capricious stream removed itself from its vicinity, and, for an easy and inviting approach, prohibited ingress by depositing inaccessible mounds of mud.

The process, which for revolving centuries marked this singular river, is still going on; deposits are daily made of soft soil, and that which had been left before, hardened into firm ground. This new-created land is stretching beyond the estuary of the stream, and the promontories which marked its mouth, as its barrier against the encroaching of the sea, are now so remote from it, that they are seen distant inland hills. A judicious traveller remarks, that it is probable the land will be pushed away, to join the island of Samos, and such a change will be wrought on this coast by the caprice of the river, that “barren rocks may be enamelled with rich domains, and other cities may rise and flourish on the bounty of the Meander.”

The rich valley through which this river winds its way, was formerly filled with many famous cities, and some distinguished for that luxury and effeminacy which a balmy climate and a fertile soil are apt to generate. Tralles and Alabanda sent from hence their swarms of “esurient Greeks,” with their cargoes of figs and prunes, to taint the Roman citizens, already sufficiently corrupt. Notwithstanding the desolation which Turkish indolence and barbarism brought into these fertile regions, the active spirit of the ancient Greeks still seems to animate their oppressed descendants. The whole plain is seen by the traveller in the highest state of cultivation: corn, wine, and oil, the evidence and emblem of fatness and fertility, are now abundant here, as in the days of the free Greek cities,−-pastures covered with sheep and oxen, fields waving with golden crops of wheat, vineyards bending under vast clusters of grape, and gardens shaded by the broad foliage of the fig, are still the prospects which present themselves.

In the midst of this abundance is situated the town of Guzel-Hissar, appropriately called “the Castle of Beauty,” which its name imports. It lies on a small stream, about ten miles from the Meander, and on an eminence which commands a prospect of the lovely vale through which the river winds its way. Our illustration presents a view of it, with Mount Thorax rising behind it, and the ridges of the Messogeis before it−-the wooded plain of the Meander lying between, and spread out under the city. Both seem to partake of the same quality of rank vegetation. Among minarets, and domes, and houses, rise cypress, terebinth, and oriental platanus, so that the whole is a forest of mingled spires and trees; among these, myriads of turtle-doves take up their abode, and they and their progeny, in surprising numbers, covering the branches and roofs, fill the air all day long with their incessant and plaintive cooing. The town is the residence of a pasha, but its edifices have little to boast of; they are mean and ragged, and travellers complain of the caravansaries, as being more comfortless and destitute than even Turkish khans. The inhabitants feel the effects of a rank and exuberant vegetation. During the sultry months, a mal-aria is generated, highly pestilential. The plague sometimes rages with mortal malignity; and the traveller, shut up in a small and naked room of a filthy house, panting with heat and devoured with insects, rather endures any thing within, than walk abroad, and encounter the ghastly and infected objects that stalk along, and carry contagion with them through the streets.

GREEK CHURCH OF BALOUKLI, NEAR CONSTANTINOPLE.

ATTACHED TO THE SPRING OF THE MIRACULOUS FISHES.]

There is no superstition so strong in the Greek church as the efficiency ascribed to fountains, and there are no objects of veneration to which they are more fondly attached. Like their pagan ancestors, they consecrate a well to some presiding being, and ascribe to it corresponding virtues. The efficacy, however, is not of the same character. A modern Greek recognizes no Hippocrene, whose draughts inspire him with poetry; but he has innumerable sources of salutary waters, which, by some supernatural power coupled to it by its patron, heals diseases; and around Constantinople are many wells dedicated to different saints, which retain all the virtues of the pool of Bethesda.

Beyond the walls of the city, about half-a-mile from the Selyvria gate, approaching to the sea of Marmora, is one of the most celebrated of these fountains, which, from the earliest period of its dedication to Christianity, has been held in the highest veneration. The tradition of a miracle wrought by its waters in restoring sight to a blind man, attracted the attention of the Greek emperors, and it afterwards became the object of their peculiar care. Leo the Great, in the year 460, first erected a church over it. The emperor Justinian was returning one day from hunting, and perceived a great crowd surrounding it. He inquired into the cause, and learned that a miracle of healing had just been wrought by the waters; so, when he had finished his gorgeous temple to “the Eternal Wisdom of God,” he applied the surplus of his rich materials to adorning this church. It stood for two centuries, an object of wonder and veneration, till it was shattered by an earthquake, when it was finally rebuilt by the empress Irené with more splendour than ever. Such was the sanctity and esteem in which it was held, that imperial marriages were celebrated in it, in preference to Santa Sophia, or other edifices in the city. When Simeon the Bulgarian defeated the Greeks under the walls of the city, he married his son Peter to Maria, the daughter of the emperor Lacapenus, here; and again, the nuptials of the daughter of Cantacuzene with the son of Andronicus Palæologus were celebrated in it with great pomp.

But, besides the sanctity of the place, its natural beauties present considerable attractions. The Byzantine historians describe them in glowing colours: meadows enamelled with flowers of all kinds, gardens filled with the richest fruits, groves waving with the most varied and luxuriant foliage, a balmy air breathing purity and enjoyment, and, above all, a fountain which, to use the language of the times, “the mother of God had endowed with such miraculous gifts, that every bubble that issued from it contained a remedy for every disease.”

This lovely and health-giving place was the resort not only of the pious, but of all who sought recreation in rural scenes. The emperors erected a summer-residence beside the church, and the celebrated region was called “the palace and temple of the fountain.”

When the Turks laid siege to the city, their principal attack was at the gate of St. Romanus, near this spot. The rude soldiers, encamped round it, destroyed its groves, dilapidated its walls, and defiled its fountain; but a traditional anecdote is told, which conferred, in the eyes of the superstitious conquerors, a character as miraculous as that which the Byzantines bestowed upon it. So sure were the infatuated Greeks of Divine assistance to repel their enemies, that they expected the angel Michael every moment to descend with a flaming sword and destroy them. When the Turks made their last successful attack, and entered the city over the body of the emperor, a priest was frying fish in a part of the edifice still standing; and when it was told him the city was taken, he replied, he could as soon believe the fried fish would return to their native element, and again resume life. To convert his incredulity, they did actually spring from the vessel into the sacred fountain beside it, where they swam about, and continue to swim at this day. This circumstance is said to have rendered the place as miraculous in the eyes of the Moslems as the Christians; so they changed the name, to commemorate the miracle, into _Baloukli_ or “the place of the fishes,” into which its former appellative merged, and by which it is now known.

As this was a place held by the Greeks, from the earliest times, in great distinction, and the Turks themselves partook of the impression it caused; it was the object of their attention, when the insurrection broke out in 1821. They rushed in a body to this celebrated place, tore down what of the edifice had been suffered to remain, and attacked the unfortunate persons who had presumed to venture to celebrate their primitive festival. In this state it continued for several years, and the traveller who visited it saw a desecrated ruin, occupied only by a poor Caloyer in his tattered blue tunic, lamenting over the devastation of his sacred enclosure. The miraculous fishes, however, seemed to be the only objects that did not suffer by the sacrilege. They still might be seen darting through the water, and the countenance of the poor priest lightened up with pleasure, when he could find them out, and say, _idhoo psari afthenti_−-look at these fishes, sir.

At length, when affairs became settled, and the revolution was completed and recognized, a firman was issued by the sultan, to repair all the Christian churches that had been injured, and this was among the first to which attention was directed. The former celebrity and great sanctity conferred upon it a more than usual interest; and the Russian government, as members of the Greek church, contributed to its re-erection on a more extended plan. It is surrounded by an area, in which is built a residence for the priests of the well. From hence is the approach to the church, which has a certain subterranean character, and is entered by a descent of marble steps. The interior has been finished with much care, indicating considerable anxiety to adorn such an edifice with corresponding ornaments. The walls are covered with a light and glittering coat of gold on white varnish, so as to resemble the finest porcelain China, and present a rich surface to the eye, perfectly dazzling. This effect is heightened by splendid glass lustres suspended from the ceiling, and presented by the emperor Nicholas.

Our illustration presents the church under its characteristic and usual aspect. Before the ornamented screen which separates the nave from the sanctuary, is stretched the sick brought here to be healed after the ablution of the water, by the panayia who presides over it. Another trait of Greek superstition is also displayed: at the entrance to the church is a large case, in which a number of slender tapers are deposited; every male, on coming in, purchases at this counter a taper, which he lights, and bears in his hand to a stand placed before the sanctuary. Here he sticks it on a point prepared for it, and suffers it to burn out, as a necessary part of his devotion. This ceremony is particularly practised by Greek mariners, who thus propitiate the Virgin before they sail. The Greek church, like the Latin, prescribes a formula for blessing those candles, and believe, that whenever the benediction is said over them, they have a power conferred upon them of chasing away demons and evil spirits when they are lighted.

GREEK CHURCH OF SAINT THEODORE, PERGAMUS.

ASIA MINOR.]

The Hagiography of the modern Greeks resembles, in many respects, the Mythology of their ancestors. Their saints are divided into Megalo and Micro, like the Major and Minor deities of their pagan forefathers. They attribute to them preternatural powers and miraculous gifts, the exercise of which is displayed pretty much in the same manner in both; and there are many of the same name, to each of whom the actions of all are sometimes attributed. The name of Ayos Theodoros is borne by five individuals in the Greek church, who have all festivals in different months in the year; there were three edifices consecrated to them in the capital; and churches bearing their name are found in every part of the empire where a Greek community exists, at this day.

Ayos Theodoros, which the church of Pergamus acknowledges, was called Stratiolites, or “the Soldier.” He was born at Heraclea, and was general under Licinius, the last rival of Constantine the Great. After various acts of valour and services to the state, he was decapitated by the tyrant, in 319, for his attachment to the Christian cause. He was brought by his adherents, to be buried at Apamea, which was thence called Theodoropolis; and pilgrims visited his shrine, and fulfilled vows in “the spiritual meadow” beside it, where many miracles were performed. His personal powers did not cease with his death. Like the twin-brothers, Castor and Pollux, he appeared in battle, and discomfited the enemies of his votaries. Six hundred and fifty years after his death, the wicked Johannes Zemisces, by his aid obtained a signal victory. He is represented in armour with a sword and shield, consonant to his church-militant character. His effigy formed one of the twelve flammulæ on the ensigns of the empire; his shield is preserved in the church at Dalisand, in Asia; his body was brought by Dandolo from Constantinople to Venice, in 1260; but his head was claimed by another place, and deposited at Cajeta.

Other saints, of the same name, had various similar acts attributed to them, and were frequently confounded together. Theodore of Siceon in Galatia, was a prophet, and predicted that Mauricius should be emperor, which accordingly took place; and he was afterwards sent for to the imperial palace, to confer his blessing upon the new royal family. Another Theodore was particularly distinguished for his miracles. In the language of his panegyrist “he expelled devils, healed distempers, and conferred miraculous gifts on all who touched his tomb.” A fourth, seized with prophetic inspiration, and while sailing on the Nile, exclaimed “that Julian the apostate from Christianity was dead;” and his death was found to have occurred at that moment, in Persia: and so he emulated Apollonius Tyanæus in declaring the death of Domitian. The fate of the last of the name is somewhat peculiar: he lived at the era of the reformation of the Greek church, begun by Leo: he adhered rigidly to the worship of images, which was then proscribed, and carried them off whenever the Iconoclasts attempted to deface or destroy them. Certain Iambics were composed, in which the practice was declared superstitious and impious, and every person detected in it was seized, and a mark set upon him like Cain. The lines were indelibly inscribed on the person by puncturing them on the skin. In this way St. Theodore was stigmatized; the denunciation was tatooed on his forehead, and thence he obtained the name of Graft, or “the inscribed.” He is held in great estimation by the Latin church, as a martyr to orthodoxy; but is of no repute in the Greek, which still professes a horror at image-worship.

The present church of St. Theodore at Pergamus, is a poor, mean edifice, forming a strong contrast with the noble remains of the church of St. John, beside it: yet it is the only place of Christian worship now in the city. It stands on the side of the hill of the Acropolis, and appears but the remnant of a former church. The sanctuary is the only part not altogether dilapidated, the rest being only a mud-built heap. The screen, which in all Greek churches, however humble, glitters with gilding and gaudy paint, is here so dark and dingy, that even in the glow of the sun, or the ever-lighted lamps, the figures are scarcely discernible; yet it is pleasing to find, even in this dim temple, a spark of Christianity is cherished, likely to beam into a clearer light. The poor papas of the church have formed a school under the roof, in which more than thirty children are instructed, and the bibles of the British and Foreign Society are introduced.

Among the objects presented in our illustration, is one characteristic of the saint to whom the church is dedicated. The expulsion of devils was included among the miracles performed in the name of Theodore; and in our illustration is a poor maniac waiting before the sanctuary, for the purpose, while the appointed papas are exorcising him. A belief in actual possession by evil spirits, is the dogma of the Greek church at the present day; and in many of them are seen chains and manacles passed through rings in the floor, where the unfortunate maniac is bound night and day while the process of exorcism is being gone through. In a Greek monastery on the islands, is a chapel famed for the efficacy of its prayers in this way, to which patients are sent from Constantinople, and the floor of the church, at times, was almost covered with those demoniacs chained down to the ground. During the excitement of the Greek insurrection, the priests were the particular objects of Turkish persecution; and the Caloyers of this convent were particularly proscribed. They all escaped but one, and he was anxiously preparing to fly, expecting every moment his executioners; he saw them ascending the hill, on the summit of which the convent is situated, and, as a forlorn hope, he ran into the chapel, thrust his legs and arms into the fetters, and appeared violently possessed, so that no man “could bind him, no, not with chains.” The Turks entertain great respect for maniacs, whom they believe to be, when bereft of reason, in the immediate care of Allah; so they only looked compassionately on the poor man, and left the church. The Caloyer escaped, descended in the dark into a caïque, which was secretly waiting for him, and escaped finally to Russia, the great refuge of the proscribed Greeks.

APARTMENT IN THE PALACE OF EYOUB, THE RESIDENCE OF THE ASMÉ SULTANA.]

In the delightful region of Eyoub, not far from the tomb of the Ansar, and close upon the waters of the Golden Horn, is an imperial residence recalling the memory of the unfortunate Selim, who selected this quiet and delicious retreat for his sister, to which he might occasionally retire in pursuit of that tranquillity his gentle spirit was not doomed to enjoy, among the perils and tumults that disturbed his reign. It bears the impress of his hand. Though inclining to and beginning to adopt European usages, his taste was still Oriental. Unlike the bold and uncompromising character of Mahmoud, he halted between two opinions; and, while the new palace of the one exhibits on the shores of the Bosphorus a noble specimen of European architecture, the new palace of the other is no improvement on Eastern barbarism; the palace is perfectly Turkish.

On passing along the arabesque front, the gaudy glare of the gilded apartments within are reflected through any open casement with an almost painful and dazzling lustre, particularly if the sun shines, so as to repel the gazer. The reception-room, or salaamlik, the only part given in our illustration, is remote from the harem, from whose mysterious recesses all strangers are utterly excluded: it is entered by a close curtain or screen drawn across the door, and immediately falling behind the person who passes, and gives a kind of mysterious and jealous precaution even to this permitted room. Here a balustrade of pillars runs across, leaving a passage in the centre which is ascended by steps, so that the upper end is raised like the dais of our Gothic halls. This portion of the apartment is covered over with gilding; the walls are pierced with various niches and circular recesses, ornamented with pendent members like icicles, and recall the mind to the cloistered sculpture of our old churches, and, notwithstanding the bright glare, convey the impression of gilding on a coffin. The panels are decorated with embossed festoons, glittering with burnished gold on a frosted surface. The ceiling, which in a Turkish apartment is always highly ornamented, is enclosed in an octagonal moulding with a central embossment, from which issue to the circumference radiating decorations; the ground is azure blue studded with gilded stars.

This spacious apartment, like every other room, is entirely divested of furniture. The only seats are cushions of a divan, like a sofa, running round all the walls, on which a man of elevated rank sits cross-legged, smoking a chiboque, whose long tube extends many yards on the floor below, where it is received into a gilded vase, and renovated by a kneeling attendant. Persons of inferior rank recline on carpets spread on the floor; beside the balustrade stand the mutes and black slaves, ready to do the behests of their master; and, as every person is admitted, he makes a profound salaam, nearly touching his forehead to the ground, on which he lays his hand, and then raises it to his head as if to scatter dust upon it. Such is the general description of every salaamlik, or hall of salutation, of which this imperial one is a model.

The edifice is appropriated to the Asmé Sultana, or sister of the reigning sovereign. The former tenant, for whom it was erected by Selim, was one of whom the scandalous chronicles of Pera reported many delinquencies: she was said to be of a perverse and implacable character, very different from her gentle brother; she was in the habit of fixing her affections on every one who struck her fancy, and allowed no restraint upon her will, which it was equally fatal to refuse or comply with. It was the agreeable recreation of all classes, Turks, Rayas, and Franks, to proceed either by land or water to some of the lovely valleys opening on the Bosphorus, and pic-nic on the grass; here she used to repair, and her approach among the various groups was described to be like the appearance of some bird of prey among the feeble flocks of smaller fowl. Every man trembled, lest she should fix her ominous glance on him. A dragoman of the English mission, who possessed a comely face, one day attracted her notice: a slave notified to him that a lady wished to speak with him, and he followed her, nothing loth. When arrived at where a group of Turkish women were seated, he recognized with horror the too-well-known countenance of the sultan’s sister, through the disguise with which she had covered it. After some refreshments, which were handed to him, he retired, but was followed by the slave, who intimated to him to repair, at a certain hour at night, to her palace: instead of doing so, the dragoman immediately left the city, and proceeded to Smyrna, where he concealed himself. Meantime the rage of the disappointed lady became furious: suite and pursuite were made after him by her emissaries; nor was it till another object had attracted her volatile regards, that he ventured to return to his employment; and even then he lived in considerable anxiety. Another instance occurred soon after, which justified his apprehension. A man in the humble rank of a musician, attached to a band who were occasionally sent for to play at the seraglio, attracted her notice, and was selected as the fated object of her regard; he afterwards, in some way, incurred her displeasure, and he, and the whole company to which he belonged, were sacrificed. A caïque was sent for them from the seraglio to the Princes’ Islands, where they resided, and they went as usual, without apprehension; the next day the caïque returned without them, but brought back their clothes to their distracted families; it was then learned that they had been all cut to pieces for the imputed offence of one man, and their bodies cast into the sea.

The sister of Sultan Mahmoud, the Asmé Sultana, who now possesses the palace, and occasionally visits it, is the widow of an officer of high rank, and conducts herself with discretion: she regulates her domestic affairs with strict propriety, and affords a protection to her dependents, which even her terrible brother, the sultan, dared not violate. Among the young ladies of her establishment was one who, without any high degree of personal charms, had attracted the notice of Mahmoud in one of his visits, and he immediately proposed to receive her into his harem; to his astonishment, this flattering proposal was declined by the girl. She resisted his offers, and preferred an humble attachment founded on mutual affection, to all the splendour that awaited her in the imperial seraglio. The sultan, rendered only more importunate by her opposition still persisted in his proposal, but was finally and firmly rejected; and he, whose look was death, whose nod consigned 40,000 formidable Janissaries in one day to utter annihilation, was unable to overcome the reluctance of a timid girl, and dared not violate the sanctity of that protection which the Asmé Sultana had afforded her; so she was ultimately allowed to follow the bent of her own inclination, and select a lover for herself.

REMAINS OF THE CHURCH OF ST. JOHN−-PERGAMUS.

ASIA MINOR.]

Among the first edifices, erected by Constantine the Great to Christianity, in his new city, was one dedicated to St. John the Evangelist, whom the Greeks hold in the highest veneration, and distinguish by the appellation of “The Great Theologian.” It was situated in the Hebdomum, or great plain, and was one of its most striking ornaments. In the subsequent reign of Theodosius the Great, the heart of St. John the Baptist, or, as the Greeks call him, the Prodromus, or “fore-runner” of Christ, was discovered, and the precious relic solemnly deposited in this church of his namesake by the emperor. He then directed other edifices to be built to the great theologian in the cities where his churches of the Apocalypse were founded, and one of extraordinary dimensions at Pergamus.

This church was, next to that of Santa Sophia, the best model of a Greek Christian edifice. Its remains at this day are of gigantic proportions, and afford a melancholy memorial of the vast Christian population that required so large an edifice, where now the existence of Christianity is hardly known. It stands near the great khan of the city, and rises above all the other buildings, on which it seems to look down. The length of the ruin is 225 feet, and its height about half its length. It is built of layers of Roman brick and masses of marble; and everywhere abounds in the fragments of architectural ornaments, which seem to have been drawn away from other edifices to adorn it. Two rows of granite columns still stand, dividing it into two aisles, and supporting the gallery designed for females. In the Greek church they are always separated. An Oriental feeling secludes them behind close lattices above, while men only occupy the body of the church below. The altar still stands in a semicircular recess, flanked by copolas on either side, forming a spacious area of 160 feet in circumference, crowned with domes 100 feet in height, towering far above the external walls. The doors are very lofty, fronting a spacious curve in the opposite wall, which leads to a vaulted apartment supported by a massive pillar.

The Turks entertain for the name of St. John a considerable respect and veneration. He is recognized in the Koran as the son of Zacharias, and the account of him resembles that in the Gospel. His father was promised a child, and, from the age of his wife, he doubted the fulfilment of it; as a token and punishment, he was struck dumb, and was unable to speak for three days. The Turks, who do not seem to make any distinction between the Evangelist and the Baptist, suffered this edifice to continue its Christian worship after they had overrun Asia Minor, and taken possession of this city of the Apocalypse; but on the subjugation of Constantinople, when Santa Sophia was assigned to the worship of Mahomed, this great Christian church shared its fate, and was converted into a mosque; but tradition says that a miracle caused it to be abandoned. To mark its appropriation to the Prophet, a minaret was built at one of its angles, as was done at Santa Sophia, where the muezzin ascended, and called the faithful to pray in it. In this minaret was a door which pointed to the west or setting sun, a proper orthodox aspect: when the muezzin returned next day to invite the people to morning-prayer, he could not find the door; and after an examination as to the cause of its disappearance, it was discovered that the tower had turned completely round on its base, and opposed an impenetrable wall to the entrance of the Islam priest: this was considered a plain indication of the will of Allah; so the edifice was restored to its former worship. This continued long after, till the decline and total decay of its Christian congregation; and still the semblance of it is faintly displayed. The traveller, in exploring his way through the ruins, is attracted by the light of a dim and dingy lamp, which he finds is placed before a dirty, tawdry picture of the panaya, stuck on the naked wall behind it. The poor Greek, his guide, as he passes it, first kisses it with affectionate respect, then kneels and bows his head to the ground, and offers up a short prayer to this his favourite picture. He then “goes on his way rejoicing,” but never presumes to pass without this tribute of devotion to the Virgin, though he probably knows nothing of the Evangelist to whom the church was consecrated. Other parts of the building are applied to the meanest uses; a portion of it is converted into a manufacture of coarse earthen ware, and filled with heaps of mud, and rude and barbarous pottery.

As an appropriate object in our illustration, the stork is seen crowning the summit of a tower with its slender form and elongated limbs. This bird has been in all ages a never-failing inhabitant of Oriental towns, noted and celebrated for its qualities, which have conferred upon it its name; it is called in Hebrew _chesadao_, which implies “mercy or piety,” and alludes to the known tenderness and attachment of the bird to its parents, whom it is reported never to desert in advanced age, but feeds and protects even at the hazard of its own safety: its emigrating qualities are noticed by the most ancient writers: Jeremiah says, “Yea, the stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed time;”[7] and nothing can be more striking than their appearance at the approaching period. They collect together in large detachments, and are seen wheeling about at an immense height in the air, above some lofty eminence, before their forward progress commences, like scouts sent out to reconnoitre the way; their white bodies, long-projected red legs, and curved necks turning to every point of the compass as if examining the road, give them a singular picturesque appearance, while the light, reflected from their bright colours, causes them to be distinctly seen at a great distance in the air.

When they do depart for distant regions, their vigilance and precaution have been extolled by many writers; their leader appoints certain sentinels, to watch where they alight for repose; this they must do standing on one leg, while they hold a stone grasped in the claw of the other. If they are known to have dropped the stone, it is a presumption they have slept on their post, and are punished accordingly; when they arrive at the place of their destination, they take note of the loiterer who comes last, and he also suffers, as an example to the negligent. To the ingenious pictures of ancient writers and others, which tradition has handed down to us, the moderns have added many more.−-The Psalmist says, “As for the stork, the fir-trees are her house,”[8] and here they build at the present day, and seem to take under their protection a multitude of small birds, who make their nests among the materials of the larger ones, and form a numerous community. It is pleasing to see the harmony and affection that subsist between them; and the sense of security the smaller evince under the protection of their larger friends. Many of these are birds of passage also, but their size, and the feebleness of their flight, seem to preclude the possibility of a long journey; yet they all disappear together, so the Turks affirm that the storks take their little friends upon their backs, and every one carries as many as he can stow between his wings. It is certain, that when the storks disappear in the night, on the next day not a small bird is to be seen left behind them. From a belief in this and similar tales, the Turks confer a sacred character on the bird; and besides their general indisposition to hurt any animal in a state of nature, they peculiarly inhibit the destruction of a stork. Whoever injures one, incurs considerable personal danger. For this feeling, there is some reasonable foundation:−-the marshes abound with reptiles of all kinds, generated in immense numbers in the rank slime of the soil. They are providentially the food of the stork, and, but for their consumption in this way, would so increase as to render the country uninhabitable by man. It appears from Pliny, that their utility for this purpose was so felt, that the penalty of death was decreed against any man who destroyed a stork.

Though the bird is seen in great numbers in all Oriental towns, Pergamus seems its favourite haunt; the inhabitants feel for it a fraternal regard, call it by endearing names, and affirm their attachment is so mutual, that it follows the Moslem people into whatever part of the globe they emigrate. They erect on their houses frame-work of wood, to induce the stork to build there; the public edifices are covered with them; the mosques and their minarets are full of their nests, and on every “jutting pier, buttress, and coign of “vantage” is seen their “procreant cradle.” Below, they strut about the town with perfect familiarity, and are never disturbed by those they meet; and their tall, slender heads are seen rising among the turbans and calpacs of a crowded street. So jealous are the Turks of the friendship of this bird, that they affirm it never builds on an edifice inhabited by any but a Mussulman. It is certain they are seldom seen in the Greek and Armenian quarters; it is probable the timid Christians, from the apprehension of exciting the envy of their masters, discourage or repel the stork whenever it approaches their habitations.

MOSQUE OF SANTA SOPHIA, AND FOUNTAIN OF THE SERAGLIO.

CONSTANTINOPLE.]

This is another view of the same objects as were given in a former illustration; but their are presented under a different aspect. In the centre of the front is the Fountain built by Achmet, with its rich display of gilded arabesque, on a bright blue and red ground; on the left are the various edifices connected with Santa Sophia, the vast aërial dome swelling above them, and intended to represent a section of the concave firmament; and on the right is the Babu Hummayoun, or, “Sublime Porte,” already described.

From this gate is seen, in perspective, descending the hill, the turreted and battlemented walls of the Seraglio gardens, running down to the harbour, and supposed to be the remains of that very ancient fortification which marked the city of Byzantium, and cut off the apex of the triangle which it occupied. The street below it is the great avenue leading from the lower parts of the city to the Seraglio, and many characteristic displays of Turkish manners are exhibited in it.

When an audience is granted by the sultan to a Frank ambassador, it is notified to him by the dragoman, and a very early hour is appointed for the purpose. Horses, richly caparisoned, are sent to convey him and his suite; and, before light in the morning, if it be not in summer, they mount in their grandest costumes. As all the Frank ministers reside in Pera, they have the harbour to cross, so they clatter down the steep and rugged streets leading to the water, at the imminent hazard of breaking their limbs, and display any thing but a grand and dignified procession. Having passed the harbour, they are received in a small mean coffee-house on the water-edge, where pipes and coffee are presented, after which they resume their march on fresh horses. There stands a great tree, at the point where some streets meet; here the cortege are directed to halt, and here they are condemned to wait till the grand vizir, and other functionaries, are pleased to issue from his bureau, in the Downing-street of Constantinople. The contemptuous manner in which infidel ministers were formerly treated, here began to display itself. Instead of the respect with which the representative of a brother sovereign ought to be received, he was kept standing in an open, dirty street, sometimes under heavy rain, for an hour or more, without the slightest attention shown, or notice taken of him, except being stared at, or called opprobrious names, muttered by some fanatic Turk as he passed by. At length the vizir was seen slowly moving down from his office; and it was supposed that he would courteously greet the expected ambassador, and apologize for his delay:−-but no−-he passed on with the most imperturbable gravity; not even condescending to look at the ambassador, or seeming to know that he and his suite were not part of the vulgar crowd. They were then permitted to move on, and follow, at an humble distance, the vizir up this street, till they entered the Babu Hummayoun; and here commenced a new series of degradations, which have been already noticed. These barbarisms, however, are now passing away, and, among other ameliorations of Turkish manners, the sultan receives the representatives of his brother sovereigns in a more becoming manner.

As the houses in the street overlook the gardens of the Seraglio, strangers, who dared not enter, are led, by an idle and dangerous curiosity, sometimes to attempt to overlook the walls of the sacred enclosure, and see what is passing on the other side; and stories are related of persons sacrificed to the perilous effort. Some even who had no such object in view, have fallen victims to the jealousy of the harem. On one occasion, the friend of an Armenian merchant, who had a house here, brought a telescope, to examine the distant objects on the other side of the sea of Marmora: unfortunately the view extended across the gardens, and, while he was intently engaged in tracing the declivities of Mount Olympus, the sultan passed below, and caught with his eye the glitter of the glass of the telescope. Two chaoueshes were instantly despatched, who entered the house, and the unfortunate man found himself seized behind; and, before he had time to take the fatal instrument from his eye, a bowstring was put round his neck, and he was strangled at the window, in view of the sultan, who, it is said, waited below to assure himself of the execution.

But this street witnessed a still more terrible display of Turkish vengeance. After the awful destruction of the Janissaries at the Atmeidan, they were everywhere hunted down like wild beasts through the city. Sometimes they were killed wherever they were overtaken, and their bodies suffered to remain weltering on the spot. Sometimes they were brought to some enclosure, where they were kept till a number was collected together, when armed men rushed among them, and they were destroyed in a mass. Some of them were dragged into this street from the neighbouring ones, as it was the great avenue leading to the Seraglio, and there sacrificed as a grateful offering to the sultan. Their heads were cut off, their trunks were drawn up at each side of the street, and for three days, the appointed time for executed bodies to remain so exposed, he passed up and down between this Oriental display of headless men, lining the street to do the sovereign honour; thus realizing, only a few years since, in a European capital, the horrid exhibitions in which a Bajazet or a Tamerlane delighted, centuries ago.

Along the wall near the great gate was the favourite spot selected for the suspension of those trophies which marked the triumph of Islamism over Christianity. On every victory obtained during their European wars, the standards taken from Germans, Russians, Hungarians, and other powers, were displayed here; and more recently the captive flags of the Greeks were constantly seen fluttering, in an inverted position, over heaps of ears and noses which were piled below. Among them were several on which was depicted the cross, and various representations of Christian events, but particularly the resurrection which was labelled “Anastasis,” intended to be emblematic of their political resurrection. But of all the standards, that of Ipsera was the most interesting. After a gallant and almost incredible defence of this little island against the Turkish fleet, which surrounded it on all sides, and poured in numerous troops at every point, these few brave defenders were compelled to take refuge in their last fortress. Here they displayed their flag inscribed with their determination to die, and their actions coincided with the inscription. The Turks were permitted without much opposition to enter the fortress, and, when it was filled with the crowd, the whole was blown into the air. The last remnant of the Ipsariots, with an equal number of Turks, perished in one indiscriminate carnage. The broad flag which had floated over the self-devoted fortress, was brought in triumph, and suspended on this wall. It was of large size, and inscribed ΗΛΑΗΘΤ, the Greek anagram of “Death or Freedom;” and while the passenger “contemplated its scorched and torn remnants hanging over the mutilated remains of the brave spirits who unfurled it, it forcibly recalled to his mind that desperate devotion which in all ages distinguished the Greeks.”

PASS AND WATERFALL IN THE BALKAN MOUNTAINS.]

This celebrated chain presents continually to the traveller a succession of objects sometimes minute and picturesque, sometimes vast and sublime. In the recesses between the high ridges, the scenery is rural and pastoral, equalling that of Arcadia; on the summits of the mountains, all seems thunder-splintered rocks and riven precipices, where the ear is stunned with the roar of cataracts, as the eye is astonished and the senses are appalled by the vast chasms through which they rush. The Balkans are seldom seen covered with snows, and the waters are rarely arrested by ice. At no season is observed, as in the Alps, frost-suspended waterfalls,

“Whose idle torrents only seem to roar;”

but the sound of the bursting cataract never ceases, and the mountain-streams, fed by continued showers, do not depend on the solution of snows, but are always tumbling down the steeps and rushing through the ravines.

The beautiful waterfall given in our illustration, occurs in the pass by Bazarjik, not far from the village of Yenikui, half way up the mountain-side. In several parts of this pass, the vegetation is extremely luxuriant. Sometimes vast forest-trees are seen rising from the depths of chasms, and shooting their giant trunks, as they struggle up for light and air, till they reach the summit, and then, and not till then, expanding their noble foliage; while the eye of the traveller, looking down into the chasm from which they issue, is lost in the immensity of the depth, and cannot trace the vast stems of the trees to the ground. Sometimes the vegetation is of a very different character: the mountains are celebrated for the abundance of plants and shrubs used in dyeing, and parties set out every year, in the season, from Adrianople, Philopopoli, and other towns, to collect them. Nothing can then surpass the rich and glowing hue which clothes the surface. The deep crimson of the sumachs, with the varying colours of yellow, brown, purple, and the dark tints of the overhanging evergreens, give a beautiful variety, exceeding perhaps that of any other region on the surface of the earth.

CITY OF THYATIRA.

ASIA MINOR.]

The notice of Thyatira in profane history is brief. It is enumerated as one of the cities of Lydia, but not distinguished by any circumstances that would confer upon it celebrity among the Greek free cities of this region. When the all-conquering Romans possessed themselves of Asia, it fell under their power, and is mentioned by their historians. Livy says, Antiochus collected his forces at Thyatira, when he marched against their invading legions; he was defeated at Magnesia, and Thyatira with all the surrounding territories merged into a Roman province.

When Christianity began to expand itself, the inhabitants of this place early evinced a disposition to embrace its new doctrines. St. Paul, in his travels in Greece, met at Philippi a woman of Thyatira; she was concerned in the sale of purple, either the dye or the dyed cloth, for which the region in which her city was situated was then famous. It was extracted from the shell-fish abounding on the sea-coasts, and was in extensive demand as an article of commerce, used on various important occasions. It was selected by the Jews for the curtains of the tabernacle and the robes of the priests. Among Gentiles, the Chaldeans clothed their idols, and the Persians their great men, in purple; for Daniel was honoured with a robe of that colour when interpreting Belshazzar’s dream, and Mordecai was arrayed in it when he was raised to the rank of minister of state. Among the Romans, it was the hue most precious, and distinguished their kings and emperors from the time of Tullus Hostilius to Augustus Cæsar. It marked the difference between the patrician and the knight, the youth and the child; the temples of the gods, and the triumphs of mortals, were adorned with it. It was the colour most prized and honoured both in the East and the West of the ancient world.

Lydia, the vender of this precious dye in Europe, which was imported from her own country, when she heard Paul expound the doctrines of Christ, at once embraced them. She was baptized by the apostle, who, at her entreaty, made her house his abode while he remained at Philippi. It is probable that this circumstance may have facilitated the reception of the gospel at Thyatira among the friends and commercial connexions of Lydia. A congregation was immediately after formed there, and the fourth church of the Apocalypse established. It was eulogized by the Evangelist for the good works of the new converts; their charity, their patience, their service in God’s law, and all characters by which the primitive Christians were distinguished; but these high qualities were alloyed by the frailties of a corrupt nature, from which not even the purest Christian state was exempt. A woman named Jezebel, or whose character resembled that infamous one of the Old Testament, influenced and seduced them to evil; and, to reclaim them from their sinful practices, St. John sent them a solemn warning in his divine epistle to the Asiatic churches; but it does not appear with what success, for no further notice is found of the city, and its fate is involved in impenetrable obscurity. Its very site was lost in oblivion, and it was not till about a century and a half since, that travellers set out from Smyrna to ascertain its locality. At a Turkish village some inscriptions were discovered, on one of which was found the words ΚΡΑΤΙΣΤΗ ΘΥΑΤΕΙΡΗΝΩΝ ΒΟΥΛΗ, which seemed to decide the situation of the ancient town; its modern Turkish name is “Akhissar,” or the White Castle.

The town is approached by a long avenue of cypress and poplars, through the vistas of which, the domes and minarets of the mosques are seen shooting up. The background is closed by an amphitheatre of hills, circling the rich plain on which the city stands. On entering it a busy scene presents itself, forming a strong and pleasing contrast to what the mind anticipates in this obscure church of the Apocalypse. Stores, merchant shops, and a busy crowd bustling through them, give it the appearance of a thronged and opulent mart, such as perhaps Thyatira once was, when purple was its staple commodity. It still carries on an extensive trade in cotton wool, and is still famous for the _milesia vellera fucata_, which formerly conferred celebrity upon its neighbouring city.

The present population of Akhissar amounts to between six and seven thousand inhabitants, of whom 1,500 are Christians of the Greek and Armenian churches, which have each respectively a place of worship. That of the Greeks is very mean, and the earth and numerous graves have so accumulated about it, that it seems half buried, and is approached by a descent of many steps. This process seems to have gone on, so as to obliterate the former Christian edifices which stood here. There exist no traces of them above ground, but in excavating different places, the remains of masonry, to a considerable extent, are discovered, having once, according to tradition, formed the foundation of Christian churches. Shafts of mutilated columns are often found obtruding above the soil in cemeteries and other places−-all that exist of buildings once standing on the surface. It is probable that many of these marked fanes dedicated to Diana, whose worship was very extensive in Asia, and not confined to Ephesus; she appears to have been the tutelar deity of Thyatira also, and several inscriptions intimate the extent of her influence and the devotion of her worshippers, till both yielded to a superior power, and the visionary train of heathen deities vanished before the light of the gospel.

Among the very agreeable accessories of this place, is the abundance of pure water with which it is supplied; perennial streams run down from the hills by which it is surrounded, and, meandering through the more level ground, and imparting freshness and fertility to the meadows and gardens of its environs, they enter the city, conducted by various courses formed for the purpose. This fluid, essential to the Osmanli, both as a natural and religious want, they prize and cherish so dearly, that expedients are used to collect it, where it is available. At Ak Hissar they have taken more than common care; they have constructed aqueducts consisting of more than 3000 pipes, from whence the water issues in various channels through the streets, so that the air in the heats of summer is constantly refreshed by the gushing streams, and the ear soothed by the gurgling sound. This water is remarkable for its salutary qualities; it is cool, sweet, limpid, very grateful to the taste, and light of digestion to the stomach. The country about the town is rich and fertile to a high degree, and the air remarkable for its purity, fragrance, and salubrity; it has all those qualities which the bounty of nature has conferred on the lovely plains of Asia Minor, and has invited a larger population than is usually found in those beautiful but now desolate regions.

It is marked, however, by Oriental circumstances revolting to European feelings. It is surrounded by cemeteries more numerous than those found near much larger cities. Attracted, perhaps, by the odour of these charnel-houses, vultures abound here; instead of the cooing of doves which marks Philadelphia, or the crepitation of the stork’s bill which distinguishes Pergamus, the scream of this ravenous and unclean bird is the sound most frequently heard; flocks are constantly seen wheeling round in the air, or lighting by the road-side, covering the fields, and so tame as quite to disregard the approach of a passenger. It is this characteristic of the town which is presented in our illustration−-one of its cemeteries strewn over with shafts and mouldings of former buildings now laid to mark the graves, and vultures flapping their wings over the corpse interred below.

CONSTANTINOPLE FROM THE HEIGHTS ABOVE EYOUB.]

This view of the city is a companion for a former. The one presented it as it appears from the mouth of the Golden Horn, the other from its head; and it displays many objects of interest on both sides of a beautiful expanse of water, whose visible circumference may be estimated at 20 miles; the length of the whole harbour being about 15 miles, and its general breadth from 8 to 10 furlongs.