THE CITY OF MAGNESIA, AND MOUNT SIPYLUS.
Two cities in Asia Minor of this name were known to, and recorded by the ancients: one at the base of a mountain, and called “Magnesia on Sipylus;” the other on the banks of a river, denominated “Magnesia on Mæander.”−The first is that given in illustration.
This city, though not hallowed by the notice of the sacred penman, or selected as a beacon on which the early light of Christianity was to shine, has yet many claims on the notice of a traveller. Mythology and history contribute to the interest it excites, nor is its name unconnected with the arts and sciences.−Here it was that Niobe lamented the loss of her children, and the effects of her grief still appear in her supposed transformation−here it was that Scipio defeated the Asiatic confederacy, and obtained the first permanent footing in Asia−and here it was that extraordinary substance was first discovered, whose properties and affinities have since become the wonder and guide of man in the trackless ocean.
The city of Magnesia was founded by Tantalus, whose fabled punishment renders his name so notorious in the world. The situation is striking; it stands near the foot of a lofty mountain, on the edge of a vast and fertile plain, and its site and soil resemble those of Brusa; but it wants those important advantages which the other enjoys. The ridges of Sipylus afford no perennial snows like those of Olympus, to refresh the inhabitants below; nor is there any solution of the frigid element, to ripple in copious currents through the streets, or meander through the fertile plain. Its site, however, is very beautiful. Above it rise in majestic grandeur the rugged and romantic precipices of a mountain once celebrated for its thunder and lightning, and which still seem to be the shattered and splintered effects of those electric storms; and below it, lies one of those vast and exuberant levels, which, in Asia Minor, are found at the base of its hill, endued with the capabilities of all the luxury of life. This majestic plain is eight or ten miles in breadth, and fifteen in length. Through the centre flows the river Hermus, which, like the Pactolus its tributary stream, abounds in auriferous sands, but, like the Nile, has the more valuable property of fertilizing its soil, and, by the deposit of its rich mud, producing golden harvests. This was so remarkable formerly, that medals in honour of the river were struck, representing its course; having on one side the branch of a fruit-tree, and on the other a cornucopiæ, emblematic of its abundant produce. The fate of Turkey has, however, now blasted it. The luxuriance of a wild vegetation covers its corn-fields, and its former crops are converted into groves of tamarisk; still it abounds in many indications of its former state. Gardens and vineyards cover extensive spaces, verdant pastures are filled with snow-white sheep, and the landscape is varied by herds of those sable goats peculiar to Anatolia, whose dark and silky coats contrast in so striking a manner with their woolly companions. The camel is nowhere more noble and majestic. The breed is here particularly attended to. They are seen gaily caparisoned, winding in long lines through the plains, laden with Oriental produce for exportation, to the mart of Smyrna, where the camel of Magnesia is particularly prized and admired.
The local attractions have rendered it in all ages the abode of a numerous community, and the selected residence of the great and the powerful. It was to Magnesia that Themistocles retired[3] from the resentment of his fellow-citizens, when the Persian king afforded him a tranquil retreat, to close his turbulent life. It was here that Andronicus Palæologus sought repose, when he resigned the sceptre of the Greek empire, and was no longer able to contend with the growing power of the Osmanli. Here Turks as well as Christians sought a retreat. Kiorod, son of Bajazet, and Selim, son of Soliman, dwelt in Magnesia; and Murad, the father of the mighty Mahomet, the scourge of Christians, when he abdicated, betook himself to the solitude of this city, to seek that quiet which a throne denied him; and being again called to public life, he once more retired to this favourite abode.
The early history of this town is connected with interesting events, the records of which are still preserved in England. The noble bay of Smyrna being the great outlet for the produce of the fertile plains of Magnesia, a league was entered into by these free and polished cities, for mutual benefit and protection. The citizens of one were admitted to all the rights and immunities of the other; and the mutual alliance was ratified by erecting marble pillars in both cities, with the terms of the compact inscribed on them. One of these interesting documents has escaped the ravages of time and accident. The tremendous earthquake, in the reign of Tiberius, that prostrated thirteen noble cities in Asia, and with them Magnesia, respected this monument, and it is now preserved among the marbles which enrich the university of Oxford.
The citizens of Magnesia had been long celebrated for their skill in staining glass, and still retain some beautiful specimens. Travellers see with surprise, in the houses they enter, the floors covered with varied forms in vivid colours, and find them caused by “storied windows, richly dight,” through which the sun’s rays had passed. The glass here manufactured possesses a brightness and transparency of colours superior to those of Europe. It is thus that, while the arts have long fled from this barbarized region to the more polished people of the west, a beautiful one remained behind, the loss of which Europe long regretted.
Indications of the wonderful substance to which the city gave its name, is yet found in the mountain over the town. Pliny affirms that the appellation of magnet was derived from Magnes, the shepherd, who discovered it in mount Ida, by the iron attached to his crook; but Lucretius, the philosophic poet, and others, say it took its name from the place where it was first found.[4] Travellers in modern times endeavour to settle the question; they bring with them ship and pocket compasses, to ascertain the existence of the magnetic stone in this place. They find the needle pointing to different quarters, as the compass is moved from place to place, and at length losing its quality of being attracted altogether; a circumstance known to be the effect produced on magnetic needles, when brought near other bodies possessing the same property.
The conversion of Niobe, not into a fountain, but a rock, was an opinion so universally received by the ancients, that Pausanias affirms, he himself, in ascending the hill, saw the statue with his own eyes. This indurated memorial of the tear-dissolved mother, is yet to be seen as Pausanias saw it 2,000 years ago. On the side of the hill is the rude fragment of a rock, bearing a semblance to a human form, which a lively imagination may easily convert into a Niobe. The person represented, however, has been disputed; some have taken it for the colossal statue of Cybele, the tutelar deity of the place.
The face of the mountain, ascending from the city, presents the remains of very extensive fortifications, once occupied by soldiers of various nations, but at present in a state of entire dilapidation. Its cannon were removed to Smyrna, and now protect its ancient ally. A more modern edifice, surrounded by well-timbered woods, attracts more attention. This is the residence of the present Ayan, or proprietor of the soil, whose family has been long distinguished in this region. When the Osmanli made their first inroads on Christian possessions, they secured them, by establishing, as they advanced, a feudal system. They left the acquired territory under some military chief, who portioned it out among his Moslem followers, on the terms of military service when called upon. These were named Deré beys, or “Lords of the valleys;” and the rich plains of Asia Minor were divided among them. They were classed as Zaims or Timariots, according to the number of spahis or cavalry they were bound to supply; and were the only hereditary nobility in the Turkish empire−few in numbers, but the petty and brutal tyrants of their respective territories. To these, however, was one distinguished exception: the family of Cara Osman Oglou preserved a high character for many generations, and every traveller who visited Magnesia spoke of them as liberal and enlightened benefactors of the territory over which they presided. This nobility is now extinguished; the energetic Mahomet, in his reforms, reduced this small but tyrannic oligarchy to the general level, and united, and confined to his own person, the whole nobility of the empire. The last descendant of the Oglous was invited to the capital, where he now employs his time and revenues in mechanical pursuits. He is a cunning shipwright, and has built a man-of-war, to serve in the Turkish fleet.
The present population of the city is estimated at somewhat more than 30,000, of which 20,000 are Turks, and the remainder Jews and Christians. The former have twenty mosques, whose bristling minarets are seen in our illustration. There are three Greek and Armenian churches, and two synagogues. In the foreground is represented one of those Oriental wells, which from the earliest ages were “digged” in the East, and which now form a conspicuous object in every landscape. A long horizontal beam of wood is divided into two unequal lengths, and supported and turned on a perpendicular. On the short arm is placed a weight which counterpoises the longer and the bucket and cord attached, when it descends into the well, and is very easily raised by means of this lever. One of these machines is seen erected in every garden, and, as irrigation is constantly required in an arid soil, it is always in motion, and its dull and drowsy creaking is the sound incessantly heard by all travellers.
| T. Allom. | J. B. Allen. |