Chapter VII: Part 7

Even the ruins are altering every day. Dawkins and Wood found nine large columns standing; but Volney, in 1784, found only six. They reckoned twenty-nine at the lesser temple; but now there are only twenty. There were, originally, thirty-four,--eight in front, and thirteen along each of the sides. The others were overthrown by an earthquake. Nature alone, however, has not effected this devastation. The Turks have had their share in the destruction of the columns; the motive for which was merely that of procuring the iron cramps, which served to join the several blocks of which each column is composed. Famine, the pestilence, and the sword, gradually thinned the inhabitants. The population of five thousand, which the town contained in 1751, has now dwindled down to barely two hundred persons: nor does each house continue to possess, as it did in the time of Maundrell, "ten or fifteen cows, besides goats and sheep, the goats being of an uncommon species, worth from 30_l._ to 35_l._ a piece!" The description left by Maundrell was faithful at the time he visited those ruins; but since that period several important parts have been destroyed, and even the place of the temple at the end of the great court, which was probably the principal edifice of the whole, cannot at this day be made out[146].

The hands of the natives have, no doubt, committed many ravages. Faccardine, prince of the Druses, destroyed or injured several parts of these ruins; but when he afterwards visited Italy, and contracted a taste for its architecture, he is said to have bitterly lamented the sacrilege he had committed at Balbec[147]. "It is in fact man, not nature," says an elegant writer, "that has wrought this change. No blight has seared the soil, or poisoned the air, but a degrading despotism has as effectually dried up the sources of social prosperity, as if some elementary convulsion had suddenly turned the clime of beauty cold and dark, and struck the teeming earth with hopeless barrenness. Indeed, Turkish oppression has done what no unkindness of nature could have effected. The splendours of Palmyra rose, under the breath of a free commerce, in the midst of a sandy desert; but nothing has been able to preserve that and many other great cities from crumbling into heaps of ruins, at the death-touch of the gloomy tyranny, that now hangs like a pall over the land."

We must now give place to what Mons. de La Martine says, in regard to the Bishop of Balbec:--"We proceeded very little farther that day. The road diverged from these ruins, and led us to others. We passed over some vaults, and arrived at a small house. This was the palace of the Bishop of Balbec, who, clothed in his violet-coloured pelisse, and attended by some Arab peasants, advanced to meet us, and conducted us to his humble door. The poorest peasant's cottage in Burgundy, or Auvergne, possesses greater luxury and elegance than the palace of the Bishop of Balbec. It was an ill-built hut, without either window or door, and through the decayed roof the rain worked its way, and dropped on the mud floor. This was the bishop's dwelling! But at the further end of the yard, which adjoined the house, a neat wall, newly built of blocks of stone, and a door and window in ogives of Moorish architecture, each ogive being constructed of finely-sculptured stones, attracted my attention. This was the church of Balbec, the cathedral of that town, in which other gods have had splendid temples; the chapel in which the few Arab Christians, who live here amidst the wrecks of so many different faiths, worship, under a purer form, the universal Creator."

The bishop was a fine old man with hair and beard of silver, a grave and benevolent cast of features, and a sweet and well-modulated voice. He was the perfect image of a priest of poetry or romance, says the traveller; and his aspect, which denoted peace, resignation, and charity, was well suited to the scene of ruins and meditation in which he lived.

The traveller afterwards describes a delightful scene. He and his friends were sitting by moonlight near the bishop's hut. "We were silent. Suddenly a soft plaintive strain, a slow modulated murmur stole through the grotesque ogives of the ruined wall of the bishop's house. This vague and confused sound swelled higher and higher, until we distinguished it to be a chant from the united voices of choristers; a monotonous, melancholy strain, which rose, fell, and died away, and was alternately revived and re-echoed. This was the evening prayer, which the Arab bishop was chanting with his little flock, in the skeleton of that which once had been his church; viz., a heap of ruins piled up by a heap of idolaters. We were totally unprepared for music of this sort, where every note was, in fact, a sentiment or a sign from the human breast. How little did we expect it in this solitude, in the bosom of the desert, issuing, as it were, from mute stones, strewed about by the combined influence of earthquakes, barbarous ignorance, and time! A hallowed emotion inspired us, and we joined with religious fervour in the sacred hymn, until the last sighs of the pious voices had died away, and silence again reigned over the venerable ruins."

We conclude with the words which Seller in his history of Palmyra adopts from Cicero: "Whenever we see such remains of venerable antiquity, such lasting records of the names and achievements of great persons, we are admonished to take care so to regulate our actions, that we may convince the world we have settled our prospect upon the rewards of future ages, and not on the flatteries of the present; and so remember, that monuments being erected to the memory of those who have lived well in this world before they left it, put us in mind, that there is nothing here permanent and immutable; and that it is the duty of considering man to aspire towards immortality[148]."

NO. XIX.--BYZANTIUM.

"On which side soever," says an elegant traveller, "you approach Constantinople, whether ascending by the Dardanelles and the sea of Marmora, or descending from the Black Sea by the Bosphorus; whether you arrive by crossing the plain of Thrace, or come in sight from the opposite hills of Asia, she presents herself, indeed, like 'the queen of cities.'"

The history of this city being that of an empire, we shall confine ourselves to a few particulars, and then pass on to give some account of its monumental antiquities. We do this the more readily, since those antiquities are far from being of the first order.

According to Ammianus, Byzantium was founded by the Athenians; according to Justin, by the Lacedæmonians; according to Paterculus, by the Milesians; according to others, by a colony of Megara, under the conduct of Byzas, 658 B.C.

Byzantium received a great accession of inhabitants in consequence of a decree passed, in gratitude to the Athenians, for having compelled Philip of Macedon to raise the siege of their city[149].

In subsequent times Constantine the Great (from whom it was called Constantinople), seeing its proud situation, created it into a capital jointly with Rome; from which time the Roman empire was distinguished by the titles Eastern and Western. In this position it stood, till the city was sacked by the Turks under the guidance of Mahomet the Second.

The manner in which the Turks first gained a footing in Europe is thus described in Bucke's Harmonies of Nature:--"Orcan having made himself master of the shore skirting the sea that separated Asia from Europe, his son Solyman resolved, if possible, to gain the castle of Hanni (Sestos), then considered the key of Europe: but the Turks had neither pilot, ships, nor boats. Solyman stood meditating on the beach, one fine moonlight night, for some time. He had come thither with about eighty followers on a hunting expedition. Beholding the towers of Hanni rising over the opposite shore, he resolved to secure them for his father and himself. He communicated his thoughts to his followers. Wondering at his resolution, they regarded him as frantic. He persisted;--and they made three rafts fastened on corks and bladders of oxen. When the party had finished their task, they committed themselves to the waters; and with poles instead of oars, succeeded in gaining the opposite shore: the moon shining brilliantly as they stepped off the rafts, almost immediately under the walls of Hanni. As they marched along the beach, they met a peasant going to his work, it being now morning. This man hated his prince; and being bribed by a sum of money, he told Solyman of a subterranean passage leading into the castle. The little band availed themselves of this information, and quietly entered the walls. There was no regular garrison, and the few inhabitants were still asleep. They fell an easy prey, therefore, to the adventurers. Having thus gained the first object of their enterprise, they assembled the pilots and vessel-owners of the town; and, offering them considerable sums of money, induced them to steer their vessels to the opposite shore. Some thousand men were then embarked, and in a few hours they were wafted under the castle walls. This was the first landing of the Turks in Europe: they ever after kept possession of this castle: ninety-six years after, they sacked the city of Constantinople."

Mahomet II.[150], surnamed "the Great," was born at Adrianople in the year 1430, and was, in the thirteenth year of his age, called to the throne by the voluntary abdication of his father, Amurath II. On his accession, Mahomet renewed the peace with the Greek emperor Constantine, to whom he, at the same time, agreed to pay a pension for the expenses and safe custody of his uncle Orcan, who had, at a previous period, withdrawn to the court of Constantinople for safety. The carelessness of the sultan in the observance of this clause of the treaty excited the complaints of the emperor, with the imprudent threat that, unless the pension was regularly paid, he would no longer detain Orcan. This threat afforded the sultan a pretext for rekindling the war. Mahomet determined to complete the conquest of the feeble empire by the capture of Constantinople; and to terminate, by one terrible catastrophe, the strife of many ages between the Moslems and the Greeks. Every preliminary measure having been completed, Mahomet at length appeared before Constantinople, on the 2d of April, 1453, at the head of three hundred thousand men; supported by a formidable artillery, and by a fleet of three hundred and twenty sail, mostly store-ships and transports; but including eighteen galleys of war, while the besieged could not muster more than ten thousand effective soldiers for the defence. This vast disparity of force leaves little room for admiring the prowess and military skill of the victorious party. The besieged made, however, so obstinate a defence, under the brave emperor, Constantine Palæologus, that for fifty-three days all the efforts of the assailants were unavailing. The defenders of the city had drawn strong iron chains across the entrance of the port; and Mahomet saw, that unless he could get some of his vessels into the Golden Horn, his success was doubtful, and that, at best, the defence might be greatly protracted. He, therefore, contrived to conduct a part of his fleet, for ten miles, over the land on a sort of railway, from the Bosphorus into the harbour, and caused a floating battery to be constructed and occupied with cannon. This sealed the fate of the imperial city.

On the day of the last assault, Mahomet said to his soldiers:--"I reserve to myself only the city; the gold and women are yours." The emperor (Constantine) accomplished all the duties of a general and a soldier. The nobles, who fought around his person, sustained, till their last breath, the honourable names of Palæologus and Cantacuzene. His mournful exclamation was heard--"Cannot there be found a Christian to cut off my head?" and his last fear was, lest he should fall alive into the hands of his enemies. He threw away his imperial dress, rushed into the thickest of the fight, fell by an unknown hand, and his body was buried under a mountain of the slain: nor was it afterwards recognised.

The houses and convents were deserted; and the trembling inhabitants flocked together in the streets, like a herd of timid animals. From every part of the city they rushed into the church of St. Sophia. In the space of an hour the sanctuary, the choir, the nave, the upper and lower galleries, were filled with the multitude of fathers and husbands, of women and children, of priests, monks, and religious virgins; the doors were barred on the inside, and they sought protection from the sacred dome, which they had so lately abhorred as a profaned and polluted edifice.

The doors were, soon after, broken with axes; and the Turks encountering no resistance, their bloodless hands were employed in selecting and securing the multitude of their prisoners. Youth, beauty, and the appearance of youth, attracted their choice. In the space of an hour, the male captives were bound with cords, the females with their veils and girdles. The senators were linked with their slaves; the prelates with the porters of their church; and young men of a plebeian class with noble maids, whose faces had been invisible to the sun and their nearest kindred.

In this common captivity the ranks of society were confounded; the ties of nature were cut asunder; and the inexorable soldier was careless of the father's groan, the tears of the mother, and the lamentations of the children. The loudest in their wailings were the nuns, who were torn from the altars with naked bosoms, outstretched hands, and dishevelled hair. At a similar hour, a similar rapine was exercised in all the churches and monasteries; in all the palaces and habitations of the capital. The male captives were bound with cords, and the females with their veils and girdles, and driven, to the number of sixty thousand, from the city to the camp or fleet, where those, who could not obtain the means of purchasing their ransom, were exchanged, or sold, according to the caprice or interest of their masters.

The disorder and rapine lasted till the sultan entered in triumph through the gate of St. Romanus. He was attended by his vizirs, his bashaws, and guards. As he rode along, he gazed with satisfaction and wonder on the strange, though splendid, appearance of the domes and palaces, so dissimilar to the style of oriental architecture. He proceeded to the church of St. Sophia; where, observing a soldier in the act of breaking up the marble pavement, he admonished him with his scymetar, that if the spoil and captives were granted to the soldiers, the public and private buildings had been reserved for the prince.

From St. Sophia he proceeded to the august, but desolate, mansion of a hundred successors of the first Constantine; but which, in a few hours, had been stripped of the pomp of royalty. A melancholy reflection on the vicissitudes of human greatness forced itself upon his mind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian poetry:--"The spider has wove his web in the imperial palace; and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiel[151]."

"The finest point from which Constantinople can be viewed," says M. de La Martine, "is from a belvidere, built by M. Truqui, on the terrace roof of his house. This belvidere commands the entire group of the hills of Pere-Galata, and the little hillocks which surround the port on the front side of the water. It is the eagle's flight over Constantinople and the sea. Europe, Asia, the entrance of the Bosphorus, and the sea of Marmora, are all under the eye at once. The city lies at the feet of the spectator. If (continues Mons. de La Martine) we were allowed to take only one point of the earth, this would be the one to choose. Whenever I ascend to the belvidere to enjoy this view (and I do so several times a day, and invariably every evening), I cannot conceive how, of the many travellers who have visited Constantinople, so few have felt the beauty which it presents to my eye and to my mind. Why has no one described it? Is it because words have neither space, horizon, nor colours, and that painting is only the language of the eye? But painting itself has never portrayed all that is here. The pictures, I have seen, are merely detached scenes, consisting of a few lines and colours without life: none convey any idea of the innumerable gradations of tint, varying with every change of the atmosphere, and every passing hour. The harmonious whole, and the colossal grandeur of these lines; the movements and the intertwinings of the different horizons; the moving sails, scattered over the three seas; the murmur of the busy population on the shores; the reports of the cannon on board the vessels, the flags waving from the mast-heads; the floating caiques; the vaporous reflection of domes, mosques, steeples, and minarets in the sea; all this has never been described;"--nor ever can be!

The whole circuit of Constantinople, however, calculated at somewhat more than twelve miles, present, even to diligent research[152], very few remains of antiquity. The truth is, the Turks have availed themselves of the marbles and fragments of the Greeks in the construction of their own public edifices; and the antiquities of Constantinople are re-produced to the eye under entirely different forms and constructions, in the mosques and minarets, the fountains and cemeteries of the Osmandys. Many a beautiful work, of the ancient Greek chisel, has thus been embedded in a wall, or cut down and defaced to make a Turkish tombstone; and many an edifice, constructed in accordance with the pure styles of architecture, has been levelled and used as a quarry. But still, it must be confessed that some of the Turkish buildings, and more particularly some of the imperial mosques which have risen in their places, are distinguished by grandeur and beauty. Of these imperial mosques there are fourteen, each lofty, and magnificent in its general dimensions, and built from base to dome with excellent and enduring materials; chiefly of white marble, tinged with grey. Besides these, there are sixty ordinary mosques, varying in size and beauty, but all considerable edifices; and then two hundred and more inferior mosques and messdgids[153].

The walls of Byzantium[154] were built of large square stones, so joined as, apparently, to form one single block. They were much loftier on the land side than towards the water, being naturally defended by the waves, and in some places by the rocks they are built on, which project into the sea.

They were of Cyclopian structure[155]; and of the workmanship, from what Herodian has said of them, the masonry was greatly superior to any of the workmanship now visible in the fortifications. It was surrounded by a wall, made of such immense quadrangular masses of stone, and so skilfully adjusted, that the marvellous masonry, instead of disclosing to view the separate parts of which it consisted, seemed like one entire mass. "The very ruins," says Herodian, "show the wonderful skill, not only of the persons who built it, but of those, also, by whom it was dismantled."

The wall of Theodosius begins at the castle of Seven Towers, whence it traverses the whole western side of the city. This is the only part of the general wall of the city worth seeing. It is flanked into a double row of mural towers, and defended by a fosse about eight yards wide. The same promiscuous mixture of the works of ancient art--columns, inscriptions, bas-reliefs, &c.--seen in the walls of all the Greek cities, is here remarkably conspicuous. But the ivy-mantled towers, and the great height of this wall, added to its crumbling ruinous state, give it a picturesque appearance, exhibited by no other city in the Levant: it resembles a series of old ruined castles extending for five miles from sea to sea[156].

Of the eighteen gates, which once existed on the west side of the city, only seven now remain. The site of the two temples erected by Justinian, as _safeguards_ of the city, may still be ascertained by their vestiges; but these have almost disappeared.

The walls, which are well built, are still standing, and consist of stone terraces from fifty to sixty feet high, and occasionally from fifteen to twenty feet thick, covered with freestone of a greyish-white colour; but sometimes of pure white, and seeming fresh from the chisel of the mason. At the feet of the walls are the ancient fosses filled with rubbish and luxuriant loam, in which trees and pellitories have taken root ages ago, and now form an impenetrable glacis. The summit of the wall is almost everywhere crowned with vegetation, which overhangs and forms a sort of coping, surmounted by capital and volute of climbing plants and ivy. These walls are so noble, that La Martine says that, next to the Parthenon and Balbec, they are the noblest existing memorials of ruined empires.

"There is nothing either grand or beautiful in the remains of the brazen column, consisting of the bodies of three serpents twisted spirally together. It is about twelve feet in height, and being hollow, the Turks have filled it with broken tiles, stones, and other relics. But in the circumstances of its history, no critique of ancient times can be more interesting. For it once supported the golden tripod at Delphi, which the Greeks, after the battle of Platæa, found in camp of Mardonius[157]."

Near the Valide is a COLUMN of PORPHYRY[158], generally supposed to have supported the statue of CONSTANTINE. It is composed of eight pieces, surrounded by as many wreaths or garlands of the same marble. Not long since it gained the name of Colonna Brugiata, or burned pillar, having been very much defaced by the many conflagrations to which this vast city has been subject.

Near Mesmer-Kiosch[159] is a view of the summit of the Corinthian pillar of white marble, fifty feet high, in the gardens of the seraglio, with the inscription--

FORTUNÆ REDUCI OB DEVICTOS GOTHOS.

This has been erroneously supposed the column of Theodora. Pococke mentions that it was taken from some other part of the town to the seraglio gardens. It is supported by a handsome capital of verd antique.

This building[160], the mosque of St. Sophia (formerly of much larger extent), owes its foundation to the emperor Justinian, who lived also to see it finished, A.D. 557. It was dedicated by him to the wisdom of God. This fabric is entirely Gothic.

"In the time of Procopius[161] its dome might have seemed suspended by a chain from heaven; but at present it exhibits much more of a subterranean than of an aerial character. The approach to the Pantheon at Rome, as well as to the spacious aisle and dome of St. Peter's, is by ascending; but in order to get beneath the dome of St. Sophia, the spectator is conducted down a flight of stairs. * * * The more we saw of the city, the more we had reason to be convinced that it remains as it was from its conquest by the Turks. The interior of St. Sophia manifestly proves the indisposition of the Turks towards the decoration of the buildings they found. * * * There is so much of littleness and bad taste in the patchwork of its interior decorations, and of confusion in the piles and buttresses about it, when viewed externally, that we hardly considered it more worth visiting than some other mosques, especially those of sultan Solyman and sultan Achmet."

This is one of the largest edifices ever built for the purpose of Christian worship; but though built by Constantine, it is evident, from the barbarous style of art which pervades the mass of stone, that it is the production of a vitiated and declining age. It is a confused memorial of a taste which no longer exists. "In its present state," says La Martine, "St. Sophia resembles an immense caravansary of God; for there are the columns of the temple of Ephesus and the figures of the apostles, encircled with gilded glories, looking down upon the hanging lamps of the Iman."

In the mosques, called Osmanic, are pillars of Egyptian granite, twenty-two feet high and three feet in diameter; and near it is the celebrated sarcophagus of red porphyry, called the _Tomb of Constantine_, nine feet long, seven feet wide, and five feet thick, of one entire mass. In the mosque of sultan Achmet are columns of verde antico, Egyptian granite, and white marble. Several antique vases of glass and earthenware are also there suspended, exactly as they were in the temples of the ancients with the votive offerings.

Near the mosque of sultan Achmet[162], which is one of the finest buildings in Constantinople, stands the Hippodrome, called by the Turks Etmeidon, which is no other than a translation of the ancient name; it being made use of at present for exercising cavalry.

It is a space of ground five hundred and seventy-four yards in length, and one hundred and twenty-four in breadth, and at one end are two obelisks, the one of granite fifty-eight feet high, on which are inscribed many Egyptian hieroglyphics. The pedestal is adorned with bas-relievos of but ordinary sculpture, representing different actions of the emperor Theodosius in relation to the races that were performed in the Hippodrome. In one place, particularly, he is to be seen crowning a figure who is supposed to be the person that had carried off the prize.

The other obelisk is composed of several pieces of stone, and seems, by many cavities between the stones, to have been covered with brass plates; which, together with its height, must have rendered it superior to the former in magnificence. Between these obelisks is the Delphic pillar.

The aqueduct of the Roman emperors still remains[163]. It was first erected by Hadrian: it was called by his name; subsequently it bore that of Valens, and of Theodosius. Being ruined by the Avans in the reign of Heraclius, it was repaired by one of the Constantines. In a later period Solyman, called the Magnificent, finding it gone to decay, caused it to be restored. It consists of a double line of arches, built with alternate layers of stone and brick.

Within the walls of Constantinople[164] the Greek emperors had formed, by excavation, a number of immense cisterns, or reservoirs, which were always to be kept full, and which might supply the capital in case of siege. One of them, though no longer performing the office for which it was intended, is still one of the curiosities of Constantinople, to which all travellers are conducted. It is a vast subterranean edifice, whose roof is supported by an immense number of columns, each column being curiously formed of three pillars placed one on the top of the other. The Turks call it the place of the "thousand and one columns"--not that the columns are really so numerous--but because it is the favourite number of the oriental nations. Though the earth has, in part, filled it up, it is still of great depth.

The whole cavity, according to Dr. Walsh, is capable of containing 1,237,939 cubit feet of water when full. It is now, however, dry; and a number of silk-twisters have taken possession of it, and ply their trade at the bottom in almost utter darkness. There is another, also, which still exists as a cistern; which Dr. Walsh, who first gave us any account of it, describes as being a subterraneous lake, extending under several streets, with an arched roof that covers and conceals it, supported on three hundred and thirty-six magnificent pillars.

Some remains of a large antique structure are seen on the side of the Hippodrome; and it has been conjectured that this was the palace of the emperors; others suppose it to have been part of the Basilica, the form of which Gyllius believes to have been quadrangular; in opposition to those who had described it as an octagon. The Basilica was a college for the instruction of youth. In the reign of Basilicus there happened a great fire, and which consuming whole streets, with many stately edifices, wholly destroyed the Basilica, together with its library, containing six hundred thousand volumes. Amongst these curiosities there was a MS. of the Iliad and Odyssey, written in letters of gold; upon a serpents gut, one hundred and twenty feet in length.

Wheler says that the Seven Towers do not look strong enough for a castle; but sufficiently so for a prison; which was the employment to which it was put for great men, or great malefactors, like the Tower of London. He was not permitted to enter into it; but he observed that one of the gateways was adorned with bassi-relievi, or oblong tablets of white marble. One of these represented the fall of Phaeton; another Hercules fighting with a bull; another Hercules combating with Cerberus; and another, Venus coming to Adonis during the time in which he is sleeping.

The appearance of these walls, says Hobhouse, (the work of the second Theodosius), is more venerable than any other Byzantine antiquity; their triple ranges rise one above the other in most places nearly entire, and still retaining their ancient battlements and towers, which are shaded with large trees, which spring from the fosse, and through the rents of repeated earthquakes.

The intervals between the triple walls, which are eighteen feet wide, are in many places choked up with earth and masses of the fallen rampart; and the fosse, of twenty-five feet in breadth, is cultivated and converted into gardens and cherry orchards, with here and there a solitary cottage. Such is the height of the walls, that to those following the road under them on the outside, none of the mosques or other buildings of the capital, except the towers of Tekkun-Sana, are visible; and as there are no suburbs, this line of majestic ramparts, defenceless and trembling with age, might impress upon the mind the notion, that the Ottomans had not deigned to inhabit the conquered city, but, carrying away its people into distant captivity, had left it an unresisting prey to the desolations of time.

The Seven Towers reminded La Martine of the death of the first sultan, who was immolated by the Janissaries. Othman was allured by them into the castle, and perished two days afterwards by the hand of the vizir Daoud. Shortly after, the vizir himself was conducted to the Seven Towers. His turban was torn off his head; he was made to drink at the same fountain where the unfortunate Othman had slaked his thirst; and he was strangled in the same chamber in which he had strangled his master. "I have seen the ruins of Athens, of Ephesus, and Delphi," says Lord Byron; "I have traversed great part of Turkey; and many other parts of Europe, and some of Asia; but I never beheld a work of nature or art, which yielded an impression like the prospect, on each side, from the Seven Towers to the Golden Horn."

NO. XX.--CAIRO (OLD).

This city is said, by some, to have been founded by Semiramis, when she invaded Egypt; others suppose it to have been erected by the Persians under Cambyses in the place where Latopolis formerly stood. Strabo, however, asserts, that it was built by some barbarians who had retired thither by permission of their sovereign; and that in his time the Romans kept in garrison there one of the three legions that were kept in Egypt.

It is now called Fostat, and is situate between Grand Cairo and the Nile. It succeeded Memphis as the capital of Egypt; the history, therefore, of this place merges in the general one of Egypt.

According to Elmanim in his history of the Arabs, Amrou, son of Eleas, built Masr Fostat on the spot where he had formed his camp previously to his besieging Alexandria. The governors sent by the caliphs afterwards made it their place of residence. The situation on the banks of the Nile, and near to land that communicated with the Red Sea, soon made it very flourishing.

It was about two leagues in circumference, when, five hundred years after its foundation, it was delivered up by Schaonar, king of Egypt, in order to prevent its falling under the French (during the crusades), who set fire to it. The conflagration lasted fifty-four days. The unfortunate inhabitants quitted the ashes, and took refuge in New Cairo, which then assumed the name of Masr, and the former one of Fostat was lost.

Its environs are now scattered over with ruins, which indicate its ancient extent; and which, were history defective, would sufficiently attest it to be comparatively modern. They want the majestic character the Egyptians gave to their edifices, and the impression of which time cannot efface. Neither sphynx, column, nor obelisk, can be found among those heaps of rubbish.

At this place, however, are still to be seen Joseph's granaries; if this appellation may be given to a large space of ground, surrounded by walls twenty feet high, and divided into courts, without any roof or covering. But the only things worth seeing in the ancient Cairo are the castle, and the aqueduct that conveys the water of the Nile into the castle. It is supported by three hundred and fifty narrow and very lofty arcades.

These are thus described by Rollin:--The castle of Cairo is one of the greatest curiosities in Egypt. It stands on the hill without the city, has a rock for its foundation, and is surrounded with walls of a vast height and solidity. You go up to the castle by a way hewn out of the rock, and which is of so easy ascent, that loaded horses and camels get up without difficulty. The greatest rarity in this castle is Joseph's Well; so called, either because the Egyptians are pleased with ascribing their most remarkable particulars to that great man, or because there is really such a tradition in the country. This is a proof, at least, that the work in question is very ancient; and it is certainly worthy the magnificence of the most powerful kings of Egypt. This well has, as it were, two stories, cut out of a rock to a prodigious depth. One descends to the reservoir of water between the two wells by a staircase seven or eight feet broad, consisting of two hundred and twenty steps, and so contrived, that the oxen employed to throw up the water, go down with all imaginable ease; the descent being scarcely perceptible. The well is supplied by a spring, which is almost the only one in the whole country. The oxen are continually turning a wheel with a rope, to which buckets are fastened. The water thus drawn from the first and lowermost well is conveyed by a little canal into a reservoir which forms the second well, from whence it is drawn to the top in the same manner, and then conveyed by pipes to all parts of the castle.

The remains of Egyptian Babylon merit attention, says Mr. Wilkinson; and, among other objects shown by the monks, who live there, is a chamber of the Virgin, the traditions concerning which have been treated by the credulous with the same pious feelings as the tree at Heliopolis. The station of Babylon is evidently of Roman construction, and probably the same that is mentioned by Strabo, in which one of the three Roman legions was quartered. It formed part of the town of Fostat, built by Amer, near the ruins of Babylon, and the mosque, called after him, marks the spot of his encampment, which subsequently became the centre of the city he had founded. The exterior of the Roman station still reminds us of its former strength, which defied the attacks of the Arab invaders for seven months, and its solid walls still contain a village of Christian inhabitants. Over the triangular pediment of the doorway, which is on the south side, appears to have been an inscription, long since removed; and in an upper chamber above one of the bastions of this now-closed entrance, is an old Christian record, sculptured on wood, of the time of Dioclesian, which is curious from its material and the state of its preservation.

Near Cairo are some ancient catacombs. These are situated beneath a mound in the middle of a plain, adjoining the pyramids of Saccara, which lies beneath the sandy surface. Dr. Clarke ascended into them by means of a rope-ladder. "The first chamber he entered contained scattered fragments of mummies, which had originally been placed on a shelf cut out of the rock, and extending breast-high the whole length of this apartment: there are two tiers or stories of these chambers, one above the other, all presenting the same appearance of violation and disorder, and smelling very offensively. At some distance from these, which were apparently appropriated to man, are those in which the sacred birds and animals were deposited; one apartment of which Dr. Clarke found filled with earthen jars entire, laid horizontally in tiers on one another, something like bottles in a wine-bin. They were about fourteen inches long, and conical in form, the cover being fixed on by some kind of cement; when opened, they were found to contain the bodies of birds (the ibis), with white feathers tipped with black, or the heads of monkeys, cats, and other animals, all carefully bandaged up in linen.

Old Cairo sustained all the evils of a great famine in the year of Christ 597. We adopt the account given of this calamity from the Encyclopædia Londinensis:--"Of the number of poor who perished with hunger," says Abtollatiph, "it is impossible to form any probable estimate; but I will give the reader some information on this subject, whence he may form a faint idea of the mortality with which Egypt was then afflicted. In Mesr, and Cairo, and their confines, wherever a person turned he could not avoid stumbling over some starved object, either already dead, or in the agonies of death."

From Cairo alone nearly five hundred were daily carried out to the burying-ground; and so great was the mortality in Mesr, that the dead were thrown out without the walls, where they remained unburied.

But afterwards, when the survivors were no longer able to throw out the dead bodies, they were left wherever they expired, in the houses, shops, or streets. The limbs of the dead were even cut in pieces, and used for food; and instead of receiving the last offices from their friends, and being decently interred, their remains were attended by persons who were employed in roasting or baking them.

In all the distant provinces and towns the inhabitants became entirely extinct, except in the principal cities, and some of the large towns, such as Kous Ashmunein, Mahalla, &c., and even there but a few survived.

In those days a traveller might pass through a city without finding in it one human creature alive. He saw the houses open, and the inhabitants dead on their faces, some grown putrid, and others who had recently expired. If he entered into the houses, he found them full of goods, but no one to make use of them; and he saw nothing wherever he turned, but a dreadful solitude, and a universal desolation. This account rests not on the information and authority of a single person, but of many, whose several assertions mutually confirmed each other. One of these gave information in the following words:--"We entered a city, where no living creature was to be found; we went into the houses, and there we saw the inhabitants prostrate and dead, all lying in a wretched group on the ground,--the husband, the wife, and the children. Hence we passed into another city, which contained, as we had heard, four hundred shops of weavers: it was now a desert like the former,--the artificer had expired in his shop, and his family lay dead around him. A third city, which we afterwards visited, appeared like the former,--a scene of death and desolation. Being obliged to reside in this place for some time, for the purpose of agriculture, we ordered persons to throw the bodies of the dead into the hole at the rate of ten for a diakem. Wolves and hyenas resorted here in great numbers to feed on the corpses[166]."

NO. XXI.--CANNÆ.

Cannæ is a small village of Apulia, near the Aufidus, famous for a battle between Hannibal and the Romans; and as the spot where the battle was fought is still pointed out by the inhabitants, and is still denominated "the field of blood," we shall refresh the memories of our readers with an account of it. Both armies having often removed from place to place, came in sight of each other near Cannæ. As Hannibal was encamped in a level open country, and his cavalry much superior to that of the Romans, Æmilius did not think proper to engage in such a place. He was for drawing the enemy into an irregular spot, where the infantry might have the greatest share of the action. But his colleague, who was wholly inexperienced, was of a contrary opinion. The troops on each side were, for some time, contented with skirmishes; but, at last, one day when Varro had the command, for the two consuls took it by turns, preparations were made on both sides for battle. Æmilius had not been consulted; yet, though he extremely disapproved the conduct of his colleague, as it was not in his power to prevent it, he seconded him to the utmost. The two armies were very unequal in numbers. That of the Romans, including the allies, amounted to eighty thousand foot, and about six thousand horse; and that of the Carthaginians consisted but of forty thousand foot, all well disciplined, and of ten thousand horse. Æmilius commanded the right wing of the Romans; Varro the left; and Servilius was posted in the centre. Hannibal, who had the art of taking all advantages, had posted himself so as the south wind should blow directly in the faces of the Romans during the fight[167], and cover them with dust. Then keeping the river Aufidus on his left, and posting his cavalry on the wings, he formed his main body of the Spanish and Gallic infantry, which he posted in the centre, with half the African heavy armed foot on the right, and half on their left, on the same line with the cavalry. His army being thus drawn up, he put himself at the head of the Spanish and Gallic infantry, and having drawn themselves out in a line, advanced to begin the battle, rounding his front as he advanced near the enemy. The fight soon began, and the Roman legions that were in the wings, seeing their centre firmly attacked, advanced to charge the enemy in flank. Hannibal's main body, after a brave resistance, finding themselves furiously attacked on all sides, gave way, being overpowered in numbers. The Romans having pursued them with eager confusion, the two wings of the African infantry, which was fresh, well armed, and in good order, wheeled about on a sudden towards that void space in which the Romans had thrown themselves in disorder, and attacked them vigorously on both sides without allowing them time to recover themselves, or leaving them ground to draw up. In the mean time, the two wings of the cavalry having defeated those of the Romans, which were much inferior to them, advanced and charged the rest of the Roman infantry, which being surrounded at once on every side by the enemy's horse and foot, was all cut to pieces, after having fought with great bravery. Æmilius being covered with wounds, he received in the fight, was afterwards killed by a body of the enemy to whom he was not known. Above seventy thousand men fell in this battle; and the Carthaginians, so great was their fury, did not give over the slaughter till Hannibal, in the very heat of it, cried out to them several times, "Stop, soldiers, spare the vanquished." Ten thousand men, who had been left to guard the camps, surrendered themselves prisoners of war after the battle. Varro, the consul, retired to Venusia with only seventy horse; and about four thousand men escaped into the neighbouring cities. Hannibal remained master of the field, he being chiefly indebted for this, as well as for his former victories, to the superiority of his cavalry over the Romans. Maherbal, one of the Carthaginian generals, advised Hannibal to march directly to Rome, promising him that within five days they should sup in the capital. Hannibal, answering, that it was an affair that required mature examination--"I see," replies Maherbal, "that the gods have not endowed the same men with all talents. You, Hannibal, know how to conquer, but not to make the best use of a victory." It is pretended that this delay saved Rome and the empire. Many authors, and among the rest Livy, charge Hannibal on this occasion as if guilty of a capital error. But others, more reserved, are not for condemning without evident proofs, so renowned a general, who, in the rest of his conduct, was never wanting either in prudence to make choice of the best expedient, or in readiness to put his designs in execution. They, besides, are inclined to judge favourably of him from the authority, or, at least, the silence of Polybius, who, speaking of the memorable consequences of this celebrated battle, says, "That the Carthaginians were firmly persuaded, that they should possess themselves of Rome at the first assault:" but then he does not mention how this could possibly have been effected; as that city was very populous, warlike, strongly fortified, and defended with a garrison of two legions; nor does he anywhere give the least hint that such a project was feasible, or that Hannibal did wrong, in not attempting to put it in execution.

Soon after the battle of Cannæ, Hannibal despatched his brother to Carthage with the news of his victory; and at the same time to demand succours, in order that he might be enabled to put an end to the war. Mago being arrived, made, in full senate, a lofty speech, in which he extolled his brother's exploits, and displayed the great advantages he had gained over the Romans. And to give a more lively idea of the greatness of the victory, by speaking in some measure to the eye, he poured out in the middle of the senate a bushel of gold rings which had been taken from such of the Roman nobility as had fallen in the battle.

A ridge of low hills[168], bare of wood, and laid out in grass or corn land, confines the river for four miles, at the end of which, bounded by knolls, stood the city of Cannæ. The traces of the town, however, are very faint, consisting of fragments of altars, cornices, gates, walls, vaults, and under-ground granaries. "My eyes ranged at large over the vast expanse of unvariegated plains," says Mr. Swinburne: "all was silent; not a man, not an animal, appeared to enliven the scene. We stood on ruins and over vaults; the banks of the river were desert and wild. My thoughts naturally assumed the tint of the dreary prospect, as I reflected on the fate of Carthage and of Rome. Rome recovered from the blow she received in these fields; but her liberty, her fame, and trophies, have long been levelled in the dust. Carthage lies in ruins less discernible than those of the paltry walls of Cannæ; the very traces of them have almost vanished from the face of the earth. The daring projects, marches, and exploits of her hero, even the victory, obtained upon this spot, would, like thousands of other human achievements, have been long buried in oblivion, had not his very enemies consigned him to immortality; for the annals of Carthage exist no more."

The peasants showed Mr. Swinburne some spurs and heads of lances, which had been turned up by the plough a short time before he visited the spot, and told him, that horse-loads of armour and weapons had been found and carried away at different times[169].

NO. XXII.--CAPUA.

Capua, once the chief city of Campania, was founded by Capys, who is described as having been the father, or rather the companion, of Anchises. It was at one time so opulent, that it was called "the other Rome."

Perhaps our readers will have no objection to have their memories refreshed by an allusion to the mistake, committed at this place by Hannibal. The details of it will give some variety to our page. It is thus related by Rollin, from the luminous page of Livy:--"The battle of Cannæ subjected the most powerful nations of Italy to Hannibal, drew over to his interest Græcia Magna; also wrested from the Romans their most ancient allies, amongst whom the Capuans held the first rank. This city, by the fertility of its soil, its advantageous situation, and the blessings of a long peace, had risen to great wealth and power. Luxury, and a flow of pleasures, the usual attendants on wealth, had corrupted the minds of all the citizens, who, from their natural inclination, were but too much addicted to voluptuousness and all excesses. Hannibal made choice of this city for his winter-quarters. There it was that his soldiers, who had sustained the most grievous toils, and braved the most formidable dangers, were overthrown by delights and a profusion of all things, into which they plunged with the greater eagerness as they, till then, had been entire strangers to them. Their courage was so enervated in this bewitching retirement, that all their after-efforts were owing rather to the fame and splendour of their former victories than to their present strength. When Hannibal marched his forces out of the city, one would have taken them for other men, and the reverse of those who had so lately marched into it. Accustomed, during the winter season, to commodious lodgings, to ease and plenty, they were no longer able to bear hunger, thirst, long marches, watchings, and the other toils of war; not to mention that all obedience, all discipline, were laid aside."

Livy thinks that Hannibal's stay at Capua is a reproach to his conduct; and pretends that he there was guilty of an infinitely greater error than when he neglected to march directly to Rome after the battle of Cannæ:--"For this delay," says Livy, "might seem only to have retarded his victory; whereas this last misconduct rendered him absolutely incapable of ever defeating the enemy. In a word, as Marcellus observed judiciously afterwards, Capua was to the Carthaginians and their general, what Cannæ had been to the Romans. There their martial genius, their love of discipline, were lost; there their former fame, and their almost certain hopes of future glory, vanished at once, and, indeed, from thenceforth, the affairs of Hannibal advanced to their decline by swift steps; fortune declared in favour of prudence, and victory seemed now reconciled to the Romans." It is doubted, however, whether Livy has reason to impute all these fatal consequences to the agreeable abode at Capua. It might, indeed, have been one cause, but this would be a very inconsiderable one; and the bravery with which the forces of Hannibal afterwards defeated the armies of consuls and prætors; the towns they took even in sight of the Romans; their maintaining their conquests so vigorously, and staying fourteen years after this in Italy in spite of the Romans; all these circumstances may induce us to believe that Livy lays too much stress on the delights of Capua. In fact, the chief cause of the decay of Hannibal's affairs was his want of necessary supplies and succours from Carthage.

The revolt of Capua to the Carthaginians proved its ruin; for when taken by the consuls Fulvius and Claudius, it was punished for its perfidy. Genseric, the Vandal, however, was more cruel than the Romans had been; for he massacred the inhabitants and burned the town to the ground. Narses rebuilt it; but in 841 it was totally destroyed by an army of Saracens, and the inhabitants driven to the mountains[170]. Some time after the retreat of these savage invaders, the Lombards ventured down again into the plain; but not deeming their force adequate to the defence of so great a circuit as the large city, they built themselves a smaller one on the river, and called it Capua.

In 1501 this new city was taken by storm by the French, who, according to Guicciardini and Giannone, committed the most flagitious acts of rapine, lust, and enormity.

"The amphitheatre of Old Capua," says Mr. Forsyth, "recals to us the sublime image of Spartacus. It resembles the Coliseum in its form and in its fate. Both were raised on magnificent designs--negligently executed. Both have suffered from barbarians and from modern builders; but the solitude of the Campanian ruin has exposed it to greater dilapidation than the Roman has yet undergone. Part of its materials has emigrated to modern Capua; a part is buried in its own arena. The first order of columns is half interred; the second has none entire."