THE FAVOURITE ODALIQUE.
The female inmates of the seraglio are known by the names of Asseki and Odalique. The first is distinguished by having given birth to a son: she has then separate apartments assigned to her, gardens, baths, and even a mosque for her own private devotions. She has a regular income conferred upon her, called Paschmaklik, that is, “the revenue of the sandal.” It is assigned to purchase slippers, and called Turkish pin-money. Whenever a city is taken by the sultan, he generally reserves one street or district of it as a Paschmaklik. An Asseki sometimes builds a mosque from her immense revenue, and thence, from the source from whence the means are derived, it is called the Djami Paschmalk, or “the mosque of the slipper.” The Odalique is a simple favourite, not rendered eminent by any distinction. Between the Asseki and Odalique a jealousy and a mortal animosity exist, which often cause frightful results; and the annals of the seraglio are full of those tales of horror.
The mother of Mahomet IV. made a present to her son of a Georgian slave of great beauty. Zachi, the dominant Asseki, felt those pangs of jealousy so congenial to the place in which she lived, and resolved to get rid of her rival. On one occasion, while the sultan was absent at the chase, in the woods of Belgrade, she sent for her, on the pretext of showing her kindness and respect. The Odalique, though aware of her danger, entered her apartment, and immediately heard behind her that shrill yelp which marks the presence of a mute−the imperfect sound which the executioners of the seraglio utter, when they are about to fulfil the murderous orders they receive. The unfortunate Odalique turned round, and saw him with the bowstring ready: she submitted at once to her inevitable fate, bent her beautiful head to the fatal loop, which immediately closed upon it, and she lay dead at the feet of her rival.
| T. Allom. | J. C. Bentley. |
SMYRNA, FROM THE HARBOUR.
ASIA MINOR.
The Bay of Smyrna is one of the largest and deepest in the Levant. At the extremity rises the ancient city, crowning the distant hills, while the modern runs along the low ground below, and seems on a level with the sea. Ships from all nations crowd the water, and their various pennons, floating in the breeze, add to the gaiety of the scene. The French are particularly distinguished. On every fête-day there is kept up a kind of jubilee, and the gala of Paris seems transferred to this port: music resounds from every deck; boats filled with joyous company are continually moving from ship to ship on visits of ceremony; and the explosion of cannon, rebounding in echoes along the distant hills, announce their arrival and departure. In fact, of all the Frank nations, the French seem to consider this harbour as their own; and the Turks submit with a grave toleration to scenes of levity, of which they afterwards complain.
Several natural phenomena confer on this harbour peculiarities not elsewhere observed. Sometimes the power of refraction is so great as altogether to change the aspect and distance of objects. Ships sailing up, see the city as it were just under their bows, when suddenly it disappears; and when it is again perceptible, it is on the distant horizon. From the constant action of the sun on the air, at the extreme end of the harbour, where it is encircled by an amphitheatre of high hills, a considerable degree of rarefaction takes place, and the heated air ascending, leaves a vacuum below into which the colder rushes. This creates a continued current during the day, and causes that Inbat which we have before noticed. This constant and regular trade-wind is peculiarly favourable to the commerce of the port, as ships are wafted by it to their stations with the unerring certainty of steam-boats.
Some artificial works in this bay attest the wisdom and beneficence of one conqueror, and the energetic but barbarous sagacity of another, and still exist as memorials of their labours. The great promontory formerly the ancient Mount Mincas, shuts it up on the south, and considerably retards the navigation of the entrance; but at some distance the bay of Teos enters the land, and approaches so near to that of Smyrna, as to make their union no difficult enterprise. The great conqueror Alexander, therefore, pushed a communication across, so that ships entering the bay of Teos, pushed into that of Smyrna, and so avoided the dangerous navigation round the great promontory. There lies also the islands of Clazomenæ, not far from the shore; and as he had separated the land by a channel, he compensated by bridging the sea, and uniting the island to the main. The remains of both these works attract the curious traveller, and while they attest the activity and skill of the great captain, reproach the indolence and ignorance of the Turks, who, though it would be highly useful to repair them, and facilitate the approach to Smyrna, their great emperors consider such a thing as altogether beyond their comprehension and capability.
In the year 1402 Tamerlane besieged the city, and, in order to prevent all communication by sea, he ordered every soldier to take a stone in his hand, and drop it in the mouth of the harbour,−by this he hoped not only to keep out their allies, but to shut in all who would attempt to escape. The ships in the harbour passed over the mound before it was sufficiently high to obstruct their passage; and the disappointed barbarian caused a thousand prisoners to be decapitated, and with their heads, mixed with stones, erected a tower near the spot, to commemorate his attempt.
| W. L. Leitch. | J. Sands. |
THE CASTLE OF ARGYRO-CASTRO, ALBANIA.
TURKEY IN EUROPE.
Among the wild and almost inaccessible mountains of Albania, the traveller is often astonished to enter suddenly on beautiful and fertile plains, where he expected nothing but a continuation of those rugged and sterile rocks, over which he had been painfully and perilously clambering. Of these the magnificent plain of Argyro-Castro is one of the most remarkable. It extends in length more than thirty miles, and varies from six to eight in breadth. It contains nearly one hundred villages, either hanging on the sides of its alpine barriers, or hidden in the recesses of the shadowy glens that cleave their sides. Through the centre winds the limpid stream of the Druno, imparting freshness and fertility to its verdant banks. Vast flocks of sheep whiten the plain below, and picturesque herds of goats hang on the crags above; and the whole scene, instinct as it were with life, gives to the wildness and majestic aspect of nature a singularly beautiful and interesting character.
At one extremity of this place, perched upon the summit of a precipice, stands the town of Argyro-Castro. The rock on which it is built is cleft into various fissures, so that the streets are divided by deep and yawning chasms, which separate it into various districts, and give it a character singularly different from any other town. The houses are of a size and structure superior to those in Albanian towns. They are not contiguous, or in the form of streets, leaning on one another for support. They stand single and independent, sometimes on the summit of a crag, sometimes on the side of a precipice, and sometimes concealed in the fissure of the rock. The greater number, however, are on level ground at the bottoms of ravines, and the street is the natural chasm of the mountain. The sides are lined with fruit-trees, flowing shrubs, and hanging gardens, so that every lane is a romantic mountain-glen. These picturesque streets, however, have their disadvantages. On the sudden solution of snows, or deluges of rain, the torrents from the higher ground rush with fearful impetuosity through them, devastating them from one end to the other, and leaving nothing behind, but torn-up trees, submerged houses, and drowned bodies.
The present population is estimated at 150,000: the greater and more opulent part are Turks; the rest Albanian Greeks, and Jews. Many of them were lately engaged extensively in commerce, and the town contains a spacious bazaar, well supplied with every species of merchandise; but its prosperity has greatly declined: the ruthless hand of Ali Pasha fell on it, in common with all its neighbouring towns; its inhabitants were massacred, its merchants plundered and scattered, and its prosperity, with its commerce, greatly reduced.
Our illustration presents the castle or fortress of the town impending over its beautiful plain. This fortress is one of the most extensive and important in Albania. It contains the seraglio of the pasha, a mosque, and accommodation for a garrison of 5000 men. To secure it against the effects of famine, the rock is hollowed into subterraneous excavations, which form granaries always filled with corn; and in order to be independent of either wind, water, or other uncertain power, the mill by which it is ground is moved by a machinery of clock-work, invented by an ingenious native, which daily yields an abundant supply of flour. The necessary element of water is conveyed from the neighbouring hills by a lofty aqueduct. The works are defended by eighty pieces of English and French ordnance; so that it may be considered one of the most noble and secure mountain-fortresses in Europe.
| W. L. Leitch. | W. Floyd. |
TOWN AND CASTLE OF PARAMYTHIA, IN ALBANIA.
TURKEY IN EUROPE
More to the south than Joannina, and approaching the Adriatic, are the town and castle of Paramythia. Unlike the former, there are here discovered certain indications of its site having been that of some ancient Greek or Roman city: beautiful specimens of ancient art are daily disinterred, and arches of ponderous and double masonry indicate that its former inhabitants were in a far higher grade of social intelligence than its present possessors. Yet of the ancient city which did occupy this spot, the name has perished, while its remains attest its former existence.
Paramythia, like Argyro-Castro stands at the extremity of a fertile plain, suspended on a rock which overhangs it. The houses, like those of the structure of Albanian towns in general, are all built detached from each other. They indicate, however, the miserable state of insecurity in which the inhabitants live. They resemble so many fortresses closed up on the outside from light and air, pierced only with small loop-holes, from whence is thrust the muzzle of a tophek. They are generally shaded by the spreading branches of the Oriental platanus: this magnificent tree attains to such a gigantic size in the East, as to have been the wonder of antiquity; in the trunk of one tree, 22 people were entertained at supper, and the branches of another overshadowed a whole village. At Paramythia they grow to a magnificent size, and the town is partly covered by their leafy canopies. This luxuriance of vegetation is probably caused by the numerous springs which issue from the hills, and water the roots. Every tree seems to have a pure fountain connected with it. The spacious bazaar of the city is peculiarly marked with this character, shadowed over with a vast canopy of branches, and cooled by many rills of delicious water. Towering above the town is the fortress, reposing on a vast rock, in some places one thousand feet above the plain, and having the town spread over an inclined plain on the side of the mountain just under it The calcareous structure of this rock sometimes gives way, detaching large masses, which overwhelm and crush the houses below on which they fall. The castle is surrounded by an extensive battlemented wall, crowned with turrets. Here it is that the ruins of a former town are most conspicuous. The modern walls are raised on still more ponderous remains of ancient foundations; and the gate-ways of arches yet remain here, of evidently very ancient date.
Our illustration represents the fertile plain below, rich in various productions, full of gardens and shrubs, where the song of the nightingale seldom ceases, and is reported to be particularly sweet and plaintive. High above are the ridges of the great chain of Albanian mountains, which the ancients called Acroceraunian, because their summits were always splintered with thunderbolts; of these sublime hills, five distinct and mighty pinnacles can be traced from hence to the Adriatic. Reposing on the inclined plane of the mountain-side, is the city with its fortress, surrounded with lofty forests of plane-trees, and in front is one of those ancient arches, which indicate the early but unrecorded founder of the city.
| T. Allom. | J. Jenkins. |
THE SULTANA IN HER STATE ARRHUBA.
CONSTANTINOPLE
This carriage, peculiarly Turkish, we have already described among the conveyances that thronged the social meetings at the Sweet Waters of Asia. It is here presented as the principal and most conspicuous object of our illustration. The ponderous body of the machine, placed on wheels without springs; the heavy but gilded and gaudy carved-work which covers it; the long-horned oxen which drag it; the singular arches dangling with tassels, to which their tails are generally tied; the dense mass of hair drawn down before, and carefully dyed, like the ladies’ nails, with henna; and the amulets pending over their noses, to guard them from the effects of an evil eye−are here accurately represented. Beside the draught-beasts walks the Greek arrhubagee, leading the docile animals by the horns; and next the carriage is one of the black eunuchs, with his drawn sabre, threatening with instant death the passenger, whose profane eye shall dare to glance at his sacred charge within. It was formerly the indispensable usage, that every arrhuba should be closely covered with silken curtains, so that the inmates were never seen, except when the wind, or the jolting on an uneven road, moved the curtains aside, and revealed for a moment the mysteries of the interior; but recent approximation to European usages has removed this veil, and even open carriages on springs have been seen in the Turkish capital, filled with the secluded females of the harem.
Our illustration represents the Asmé Sultana driving from her palace at Eyoub, through the Valley of the Sweet Waters. Crowds of females line one side of the road; and, with the jealous sense of Turkish propriety, the males, separated from them, line the other. A train of arrhubas follow in the rear, with various ladies of the seraglio.
| J. L. Leitch. | H. Adlard. |
THE TOMB OF ALI PASHA AND FATIMA, IN THE COURT OF SERAGLIO.
JOANNINA, ALBANIA.
The wild mountains of Albania had long slumbered in obscurity, and, though in the immediate vicinity of civilized Europe, and in sight of the coast of Italy, had never been visited by the curious traveller, till Ali Pasha, like some lurid meteor, blazed out in this obscure district, and attracted the notice and admiration of the world by his ability, his courage, his crimes, and his success.
This extraordinary man was born in Tepeleni, a small village of Albania, in the year 1741. His ancestors had been distinguished among the wild chieftains of the district, and his mother, a woman of ferocious energy of character, determined that he should not degenerate. He became expert in all manly exercises, and, at a very early age, distinguished himself among the Kleftes, or robbers, of the country. While absent at a wedding, the inhabitants of Gardaki, a neighbouring and rival village, rushed into Tepeleni, and carried off his mother, and sister Shaïnitza, whom they abused. He vowed he would never rest till he stuffed the cushions of his divan with the hair of all the women of Gardaki. This vow he religiously kept; and after exterminating the inhabitants, and razing the village to the ground, the long tresses, which are the pride and ornament of Albanian women, were shorn from their lifeless remains, and the ferocious sister of Ali exulted while she reposed on the cushions which were stuffed with them.
After a career of crime, in which his cruelty and perfidy were as distinguished as his courage and ability, he at length made himself master, under various pretexts, of all the towns and fortresses in the country, and destroyed, with unrelenting cruelty, every rival whom by force or fraud he could get into his power. He was then confirmed by the Turks in the pashalik of all Albania, and he made Joannina his residence, and the capital of his territory. Here he invited all the distinguished travellers in Europe to visit him; and by their reports, his name soon expanded beyond the obscurity of his native mountains.
After enjoying for half a century this celebrity, the Turks became jealous of his power, and determined to depose him. He resisted all their open efforts, and at length fell a victim to a perfidy equal to his own. A pasha paid him a friendly visit, and, after many professions of good will, rose to take his leave, and made him the usual obeisance. Ali returned it, and before he could recover himself, his visitor stabbed him in the back, and his yatagan passed directly through his heart, and out of his breast. Thus perished, at the age of eighty-one “the old lion,” as the Turks denominated him. His head was cut off, and despatched, with his last wife, Vacilesso, to Constantinople, where it was exposed for three days on a silver dish in the courts of the seraglio. The heads of his four sons and grandson were sent after him; and they are all interred, with suitable monuments, outside the walls of Constantinople, and are the first objects seen by travellers after passing the Selyvria gate. The body was embalmed, and buried with that of his first wife, Fatimah or Ermineh, in a mausoleum he had erected for her on the esplanade of the seraglio at Joannina, where it overlooks the lake, as represented in our illustration.
| T. Allom. | W. H. Mote. |
HALT OF CARAVANIERS AT A SERAÏ.
BULGARIA.
The interior of the Turkish empire is constantly traversed by large bodies of men, who proceed together for protection; and their object is either commerce or devotion. We have already given some account of the first−the second remains to be noticed.
In the sixteenth year of Mahomet’s mission, he ordained that every believer should engage in a pilgrimage, to visit the place of the Caaba, or sacred house of Abraham, which was taken up to heaven at the flood, but its model was left for true believers at Mecca. This ordinance was rigidly observed by his followers. The caliphs set the example; and all Mussulmans hold it an indispensable obligation at this day, when it is possible for them to perform it. Even women are not exempt. If they have no husband or brother, under whose protection they could leave the harem, they are bound to marry, for the express purpose of obtaining one to perform this duty. The only person in the empire exempt is the Sultan; and he only because the pilgrimage would occupy a longer period than he could be legally absent from the capital. He is bound, however, to send a substitute, called Surré Emmini, who always accompanies the caravan of pilgrims, and represents the sovereign. Thus it is that every year above one hundred thousand persons, of all ages and conditions, set out from various points, and traverse Europe, Asia, and Africa, to fulfil this indispensable duty.
The great European caravan assembles at Constantinople in the month of Regib, which, according to the Turkish calendar, falls at every season of the year. They cross the Bosphorus, and unite on the great plain of Scutari, from whence they take their departure. They exhibit a strange display of folly and fanaticism. Among the various groups are seen, at one place jugglers and buffoons exhibiting their light and often indecent mummery; in another, molhas and dervishes exhorting to piety, and tearing their limbs with disgusting lacerations: but the most conspicuous object is the sacred camel; this carries the mahhfil, or seat from which the Prophet preached and dispensed justice in his journeys. The race is religiously kept up in the stables of the seraglio; and some believe the camel of the mahhfil, at this day, is the actual animal on which the Prophet rode, and kept alive by a miracle, to perform this annual journey to his holy city.
Our illustration represents a group of a caravan of the faithful, proceeding from the northern to the southern extremity of the empire, to perform this pilgrimage. The venerable Moslem, who is ambitious of becoming a hadgee, is attended by his guards, distinguished by their fantastic dress, their glittering golden-hafted hanjars, stuck in their shawl-girdles, beside their silver-mounted pistols, and the grave turban replaced by a many-tasselled cap. Their accommodation is the stable of a khan, which their camel equally shares; and their refreshment is coffee, black, thick, and bitter, served by the khangee in small characteristic cups.
| T. Allom. | J. Sands. |
THE RUINS OF LAODICEA.
ASIA MINOR.
This last church of the Apocalypse stood in Phrygia, on the river Lycus, near Collosæ. It was first called Diospolis, or the “City of Jupiter,” but changed its name to Laodicea, from the wife of Antiochus, who rebuilt it. It became celebrated for its commerce; the richness of its soil, and the raven fleece of its sheep, were a source of unbounded wealth. It gave birth to many distinguished persons:−Hiero, who named its citizens as heirs to his immense wealth; and Zeno, who, though not the founder of the Stoic sect, was renowned, with his son Polemon, for skill in rhetoric. His name, two thousand years after, was found sculptured on the seats of the theatre.
When Christianity was planted here, it was not received with the eagerness and enthusiasm with which the “new faith” was embraced in other churches. The evangelist, reproaches them with their “lukewarm” zeal, and rebukes their indifference by wishing, they were either “hot or cold.”[10] It does not appear that St. Paul ever visited them in his travels; yet he took a great interest in their welfare. He was well acquainted with their character; for he ordered his Epistle to the Colossians to be read to them also, as equally requiring it.[11] A letter exists which he is said to have written expressly to them; but it is considered spurious, and not recognized in our canon.
The place was shattered with earthquakes, in common with other cities in the same region; and what was not destroyed by the hand of nature, was more effectually so by the hands of the Turks. In the year 1009 it fell into their power; and from that time it sustained various assaults, during which the inhabitants were massacred, and their Christian bishops driven into captivity, along with their cattle. There is now no modern town built in or near the ancient site; but the extent and magnificence of its ruins, slumbering in dilapidated grandeur, attest what it once was; and various perfect and legible inscriptions still mark the era when it flourished.
Our illustration represents what travellers suppose to have been the senate-house. It consists of many piers, supporting arches of stone; among which lie marble fragments of great beauty, mouldings, cornices, pedestals, and columns, marking by their sculpture and abundance the opulence of the inhabitants, and the advanced state of the arts among them. On a portion of the wall is a legible inscription, creditable to the people. It states that they had “elected Asem to be their magistrate for life, as a reward for his piety and integrity.” Beyond, extending over the plain, are the remains of various edifices−a stadium, amphitheatre, and other evidences of wealth and civilization in this rich country, where all is now solitary and desolate−where a few wandering Turcomans make a temporary abode, and their feldt-tents strongly contrast with what remains of the splendid edifices of its former possessors.
| W. L. Leitch. | J. Tingle. |
THE CASTLE OF PARGA, ALBANIA.
TURKEY IN EUROPE.
Of all the places contained within the circuit of the Ottoman empire, this little town is, perhaps, the most interesting to England; because its fate has compromised that high and before unsullied character for good faith, which had ever distinguished British transactions, and left a stain behind which no length of time can entirely wash away.
This town is of comparatively modern foundation, and was unknown before the fifteenth century. Its erection was attributed to a miracle in the Greek church. The Christian inhabitants had occupied a place in the interior, open to the continued assaults and attacks of the Turkish invaders of the country. While deliberating on searching for a more secure site, a shepherd, following after some stray sheep, discovered, in a cave over the sea, a statue of the Panaya, and brought it with great reverence to a church in the old city. The image, however, would not rest there, but returned to her former abode. It was brought back, but again returned; when the inhabitants, hailing the miraculous omen, followed it, built a church over the cave in which it was found, and commenced a new city round the church. So Parga rose upon its sea-beat rock, impending over the Adriatic, and protected by its impregnable situation from all attacks of the Infidels. The site chosen was particularly beautiful. A conical hill juts out from a deep bay, having secure harbours on each side. From hence the bay sweeps with picturesque curves, embracing with its long arms a magnificent sheet of water; the view terminated behind with the rugged precipice of the Albanian chain, and before by the islands of Paxo and Corfu, floating on a singularly clear and lucid sea. On the summit, over the caves, stands the acropolis of the city; and sloping down the sides, the houses of the inhabitants.
The Venetians, who were then in possession of the Ionian Islands, immediately took this little Christian community, on the opposite coast, under their care, and for many years they greatly prospered. Their town contained four thousand inhabitants, and their territory extended for twenty miles along the shores of the bay. The district had been anciently called Elaiatis, from the excellency of the oil it yielded; and the Parghiotes improved this quality to the utmost. Eighty-one thousand olive-trees clothed the sloping sides of the bay, and the oil of the industrious citizens of Parga was esteemed all over the Levant. The character of the people corresponded with this prosperity−they were esteemed for their piety and integrity. No Parghiote, it is said, was ever found among that numerous class in the country, which were robbers by land and pirates by sea; but, above all, they were distinguished by an ardent love of liberty, and an enthusiastic attachment to their native soil, that nothing could subdue or weaken; and this character they supported in this lawless region for three centuries.
But the tyranny and ambition of Ali Pasha now subdued with resistless violence all the strongholds in that country, and fixed his eye on Parga as a most desirable object. The compassionate citizens had opened their gates to the fugitive Suliotes and other oppressed people, driven from their native towns; and this unpardonable offence had added to the malignant hostility of Ali, and for twenty years he used every stratagem of force or fraud to obtain possession of the place, without effect; till at length the protection afforded to it by England, was the means of gratifying all his evil passions. When the Ionian Islands fell under the dominion of France, the Parghiotes put themselves under its protection, against the power of Ali, and received a French garrison in their town; but when the islands were ceded to the English, the garrison capitulated, and the inhabitants gladly committed themselves to the care of that free and enlightened state, which they had always looked up to with honour and respect, and they were received as an independent ally of the new Ionian republic. The rage of Ali, when he saw his prey thus snatched from him, was ferocious, and vented itself in a bloody sacrifice of other victims. For three years this connection continued, with mutual good-will; and they felt the security of a perfect confidence. The crisis, however, of their fate was at hand.
The Turkish government demanded the town of Parga, as part of their territory, and a secret negotiation was entered into with the English to surrender it. When this transpired, the place was filled with consternation and despair. The people rushed into the streets; they declared, and truly, that deserting them, was only sacrificing them to their bitter persecutors, who had sworn to exterminate them, and they would not survive it, but first destroy their wives and children, and finally themselves and their town. When no entreaty could prevail on them to remain behind the English garrison, they were offered an asylum in the island of Corfu, and a compensation for the property they left behind. To these terms they were compelled to accede, and the Glasgow frigate was sent to protect and convey them. The English found them in their church, disinterring the bodies of their ancestors, and burning their bones, that thus they might not be left to the sacrilegious insults of their enemies. The whole population then descended mournfully down the steep, some bearing the ashes of the dead, some grasping portions of the soil of a place so dear to them, and some the sacred image by whose direction they had chosen it. When arrived on the shore, they all kneeled down with one spontaneous impulse, kissed fervently the sand, and so took a last and sad farewell. Before they went out of the bay, the ferocious Albanians of Ali, who were waiting like famished tigers, rushed into the town. They found nothing that had life, all was still and motionless except the columns of smoke that was still eddying up from the ashes of the dead.
The desponding remains of this interesting people, after continuing for a short time in the Ionian Islands in poverty and distress, soon dispersed; the broken community was absorbed in other populations, and the name forgotten; and the traveller who sails to Corfu, looks up as he passes this lovely bay, and sees the remains of this aërial city, lately the residence of the free, industrious, and native Christian community, now the den of some of the most ferocious and savage hordes of Turks in the Ottoman empire.
| W. L. Leitch. | C. Bentley. |
CASTLE AND VALLEY OF SULI, THE ANCIENT ACHERON.
ALBANIA.
Where the dark Acheron, now called the Kalamas, rolls its gloomy tide, among the recesses of chasms so deep and shadowy, that the wild imaginations of the Greek poets called it a river of hell−and the district through which it ran, the entrance to the infernal regions−stood the city of Suli, as distinguished as Parga by the bloody enmity of Ali Pasha.
In this country, for ages unsettled by any regular government, and disturbed by the constant warfare of petty beys and pashas, security of site was the strongest recommendation for erecting a town. A traveller winding his way through the chasms and ravines of these dark mountains, emerges unexpectedly on the summit upon a broad and fair platform. Here, 2000 feet above the bed of the Acheron, the tribe of Suli built their cities, and in this elevated rocky fastness fixed their chief abode, which they called Kako-Suli, from the exceeding difficulty of climbing up to it. On this lofty table-land were four populous towns, and they held sixty-six tributary villages, built on every available spot among the ravines and precipices below. The character of these mountaineers, and their peculiar habits, long distinguished them among their neighbours. Their fierce and unsubdued courage, their endurance of fatigue and privation, their skill in warlike weapons, caused them to be looked up to with great respect. Wherever they appeared, they were recognized by characters which marked them. Their skin was of a dark bronze colour; constantly exposed to sun and wind, and unprovided with the shelter of tents in their expeditions, the surface of the exposed parts attained the colour and consistency of tanned leather, and almost an equal insensibility. Their dress was a long white capote, strongly contrasted with the colour of their skin. They wore on their head a small cap called a fez, resembling an inverted saucer, scarcely covering the top of the crown, from under which a long lock of hair streamed in the wind. Their arms were the tophek or musket without a bayonet, and in their girdle not a straight yatagan, but a crooked sabre. Thus distinguished was
.....“The dark Suliote,
In his snowy camese, and his shaggy capote;
To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,
And descends to the plain like a stream from the rock.”
The little state enrolled on their cloud-capped mountains 2500 palikars of this description, who were objects of fear and respect to all other Albanians when seen below. These were the men, who, under the valiant Scanderbeg, opposed the first inroads of the Turks into the country; and in later times, under the gallant Lambro, attempted to liberate Greece from their yoke.
The usages and opinions of the women all tended to cherish this warlike character. The fountain, as in the days of Homer, was the place where they congregated, and displayed their traits of national character. Scrupulous respect was here paid to precedence. The wife of the bravest man had the first right to fill her urnlike pitcher with water, and then in succession the rest, according to the reputation of their husbands in war. When families quarrelled, no man had permission to interfere, lest by chance he might kill a woman, an act looked upon with horror, and expiated by his own death. On various occasions they formed themselves into military bodies, armed themselves with their husbands’ weapons, rushed into the melée, and turned the doubtful scale of victory.
As long as this bold and independent christian republic occupied their mountain cities, they opposed a formidable obstacle to the insatiable ambition of Ali Pasha; it was, therefore, one of the first of the neighbouring states which he determined to destroy. He made his attempt so early as the year 1792, and its perfidy was the model of all his future proceedings. He invited the Suliotes to a conference on affairs of mutual interest. They descended from their mountain, and, having arrived at the appointed plain below, they laid aside their arms, and engaged in athletic sports and military games, as was usual with them on such friendly occasions. The Pasha, like a tiger from its lair, rushed upon them in this defenceless state, and murdered or captured every man present but three−one of whom escaped, passed up the mountain, and apprised the republic of the treachery. Among the prisoners was the hero Tzavalles, the great leader of the Suliotes. With this man in his power, he endeavoured again to treat with the people. He sent him up the steep, leaving his son behind as a hostage. When arrived at Suli, he exhorted the people to a strenuous defence. He returned a letter to Ali, written in the stern spirit of antiquity: “You think,” said he, “I am a cruel father to sacrifice my child; but if you had succeeded, all my family would have been exterminated without mercy, and no one left to avenge them. My wife is young, and I may have many more children to defend their country; if my boy is not willing to be now sacrificed for it, he is not fit to live, but to die as an unworthy son of Greece.” The enraged Pasha gave orders to ascend, and carry the mountain. While engaged in front, a band of women, headed by the mother of the boy, attacked the Turks in the rear. They were driven down with great slaughter, and Ali himself narrowly escaped.
Though thus defeated, he never abandoned his intention; for a series of years he renewed his attempts both openly and secretly, till at length, having become sovereign of the whole country of Albania, he united the whole of its forces for a final attack on this stubborn rock. More than 40,000 men were leagued round it below, while the defenders above, reduced by various combats, did not amount to 2000. Unsubdued by force, but reduced by famine, they at length agreed to abandon their strong-hold. A safeguard was guaranteed to them, to migrate where they pleased; and the remnant left alive, divided themselves into two bodies, which took different routes through the mountain. They were both attacked and massacred without mercy. The women rushed with their children to the edge of a precipice, where they cast themselves down, and were dashed to pieces, rather than fall into the hands of their loathed conquerors. A few men escaped into a fortress in which was a depôt of ammunition. They were headed by an ecclesiastic, who had distinguished himself by his devoted attachment to the religion and liberty of his country. He here
declared that all resistance was hopeless, and invited the Turks to take possession of this last defence. They eagerly entered, and filled the castle, when the priest applied a match to the powder, and the whole were blown into the air. Among the records of these events, recalling the memory of this brave but exterminated people, is a song by one of the survivors, distinguished by the simplicity but poetic spirit of the original language. The last verse thus comments on the catastrophe
“Now Suli lies low and forlorn−Avaric and Kiaffa renowned,
And Kunghi’s high ramparts are torn, its fragments are scattered around:
But the gallant Caloyer was there, and he laughed as he lighted the train;
Yes, he laughed as he soared in the air, to escape the base conqueror’s chain.”
Ali having at length effected this almost hopeless conquest over this free republic, obtained from the Porte the dignified appellation of Aslem or “the lion,” and to commemorate his achievement, he built a splendid seraï on the summit of the mountain, amidst the ruins of the town, which is seen in our illustration peeping over the edge of the precipice. Meanwhile the few survivors of this brave people who had escaped the massacre, fled to Parga and other Christian towns, which afforded them an asylum. They were afterwards enrolled in various corps, and assisted in the liberation of Greece. One of them formed the body-guard of Lord Byron, and were among the mourners that stood round his grave at Missolonghi. But they have now no “local habitation,” and even their name has nearly perished.
| T. Allom. | H. Adlard. |
SCUTARI AND THE MAIDEN TOWER,
ON THE BOSPHORUS.
The promontory of Scutari, given in our illustration, was distinguished by the ancient Greeks under the name of ακρον βοος, or “cape of the ox,” because it was supposed to be that to which Iö swam, when, under the shape of that animal, she fled from the persecutions of Juno, and gave the name of Bosphorus to the whole streight. Under the Greeks of the Lower Empire it was named μεγα μετωπον, or “the great forehead,” from its bold projection into the sea. It is strikingly picturesque. Just below it is the turbulent estuary, formed by the rushing waters of the streight, opposed by those of the Sea of Marmora, where, in the calmest day, they wheel and boil among the rocks with a turbulence and agitation quite extraordinary in the still and placid surface of the water around them. Rising from hence, the promontory displays a succession of picturesque objects, clothing its surface−kiosks, and grottos, and thickets, and hanging gardens−till they ascend to the summit, crowned with the dome and minarets of a mosque, and the noble barracks of Scutari.
This place was distinguished as the scene of blood, in the terrible commotions that preceded the final suppression of the Janissaries. A body of those fierce and mutinous soldiers passed the Bosphorus, and made an attack on the Barrack of Scutari, hoping to convert the extensive edifice into a fortress, to overawe the opposite city from this eminence. They were repulsed, however, after much carnage, by the cannon of the topgees, and dispersed in two bodies: one took the route along the coast to Moudania; another proceeded in the opposite direction, up the Bosphorus, which they recrossed, and established themselves among the woods of Belgrade, where they became a desperate banditti, and carried their depredations to the walls of the capital. It was found impossible to dislodge them in the ordinary way from the dense forest, and the whole was set on fire. The vast surface of timber blazed up, so as to illumine the dark waters of the Black Sea with its glare; and the banditti, driven from its recesses, were shot without mercy, with boars, wolves, and other beasts of prey, as they issued from the burning cover. When the fire subsided, the whole district exhibited a melancholy spectacle of Turkish destruction−vast forest-trees prostrate and half consumed, lying among the scorched bodies of men and various animals.
| T. Allom. | W. Topham. |
GOVERNOR’S HOUSE, PHILADELPHIA.
ASIA MINOR.
Philadelphia is one of the churches of the Apocalypse, which retains some traces of its former prosperity. The seraï, or palace of the muzzelim, as the governors of the towns in Asia Minor are named, is a spacious and sumptuous edifice, and the interior is decorated with those displays of Turkish magnificence that befits the magistrate who presides over a large and populous town. When a Frank traveller passes through an Oriental city, it is not sufficient in general to show his firman by his janissary, but the muzzelim expects to be personally waited on, and, after he has treated his guest with the usual refreshments of coffee and a chiboque, he inquires his business. It is impossible to make a Turk comprehend the usual objects of European travelling in the East, no more than to communicate to him the feeling of a sixth sense. He cannot conceive why a man should break in upon the sleepy repose of a dozing life, and fatigue himself by climbing mountains and exploring caverns, which can yield him no profit. The only motive of which he can have any distinct comprehension is that which leads a man to explore ruins; for every Turk is impressed with a notion that the ancients abounded in wealth, and that in the edifices they left behind them, a man could find an urn of gold under every stone, if he knew how to search for it, and this knowledge he believes the superior intelligence of every Frank imparts to him. The janissary, therefore, who attends a traveller, though perfectly indifferent in other places, is always on the alert among ruins. He watches him eagerly when he is trying to read an inscription, certain that it points out a concealed treasure which the traveller will immediately discover.
Our illustration represents a scene of this kind. The ingenious artist has depicted himself sitting on the divan of Chem Bey, the muzzelim of Philadelphia, to whom he is exhibiting his sketches. In these latter times even Turks have made some advances in knowledge, and the present muzzelim took an interest in such things, which former travellers could not excite in one of the old school.
| T. Allom. | S. Fisher. |
THE GYGEAN LAKE, AND PLACE OF A THOUSAND TOMBS.
ASIA MINOR.
The name of Gyges is distinguished in the ancient history of this region. Candaules, king of Lydia, had wedded a most beautiful wife; but not content, says the historian, with the private enjoyment of her charms, he was anxious that others should witness his felicity, so he exposed her to his friends. Among the rest, Gyges was admitted to this happiness, and the consequence was such as might be expected from his folly. Gyges became enamoured of the wife of his imprudent friend; and the lady, indignant at the treatment she received, encouraged him. By means of a ring which rendered him invisible, he gained access to the secret chambers of the palace, slew Candaules, married his queen, and succeeded to the kingdom of Lydia.
About five miles from Sardis, the capital of Lydia, is the Gygea, a large lake so called probably from the memorable king. It stands not far from the Hermus, and was supposed to be an artificial excavation, formed to draw off the waters of the river, and to avert the consequence of its inundations. In the course of ages it has assumed the character of a magnificent solitary lake, of nature’s own formation, though in several places mounds and ramparts are still discernible, and seem rather thrown up to prevent the overflowing of the lake, than as part of its original construction. The lake, as it now exists, is of considerable extent; the rich mould on its banks, of a muddy consistence, exuberant in reeds, and abundance of such aquatic and palustric plants as love such a soil. The water, in colour and transparency, resembles that of a common pond, and seems alive with fish. Another circumstance marks it−flocks of swans and cygnets hover above the surface, and flights of various aquatic birds darken the air. Among them myriads of gnats buzz about, and, like those of Myus are the terror and torment of those who approach the lake. But the circumstance which renders this place so interesting is, that the shores of this solitary sheet of water, were selected by the ancient kings of Lydia, as an appropriate spot for their last resting-place. It is a vast cemetery, in which the regal remains were deposited, and the multitude of monuments that still exist, has acquired for it the name of “the Place of a Thousand Tombs.” The general appearance of these tombs is that of large grass-grown tumuli: swelling from the surface are verdant hillocks of a conical form, of various sizes, and somewhat resembling the larger ones seen on the plains of Troy and Roumelia. But there is one among them of distinguished form, and remarkable for many circumstances connected with it. It is that of Alyattes, the father of Crœsus. The means by which it was erected display a sad picture of the depravity of Lydian manners, and forms a sequel to the story of Gyges. The number and wealth of the girls of bad fame in Sardis were so great, that they raised, at their own expense, assisted by some of the lower classes, this magnificent tomb of their king, and monument of their own infamy. The remains of it at the present day, exactly correspond with the description of Herodotus, who saw and described it nearly five hundred years before the Christian era. The base of masonry still traceable, extends for six stadia or three-quarters of a mile. The superstructure on this is a truncated cone, now covered, like the rest, with grass very rich and verdant. On ascending the summit, a singular and characteristic view presents itself. Round its base are the smaller monuments, extending in various directions. From thence the still and placid surface of the lake spreads itself, penetrating into many solitary recesses, as if avoiding human research, and in perfect keeping with a place intended for the repose of the dead. What adds to the deep interest excited by this venerable relic of antiquity, is, that its origin and history is of undoubted authority. The traveller who visits it sees a monument as vast and ancient as a pyramid of Egypt, but whose history is much more certain and authentic.
Our illustration presents the perfect character of this place: the solitary stillness of the lake−the luxuriance of its aquatic vegetation−the vast flocks of its feathered inhabitants−its conical tombs appearing over the neighbouring elevations, and marking the cemetery in which the remote kings of Lydia slumber in solitary magnificence.
GARDENS OF THE SERAGLIO.
CONSTANTINOPLE.
An error has long and universally prevailed in western Europe, as to the degree of liberty which Turkish ladies enjoy, and their supposed subjection to their husbands has excited the pity of Christian wives; but, if freedom alone constitute happiness, then are not only the wives and the odaliques, but the female slaves in Turkey, the happiest of the human race. They visit and are visited without exciting jealousy, or being subjected to resentment; the most gorgeous apartments, the most beautiful pleasure grounds of every palace, are devoted solely to their use; and the gardens of the seraglio at Constantinople, with their orange groves, rose beds, geraniums, and marble fountains, afford an admirable illustration of some scene of enchantment in an Arabian tale.
THE MEDITERRANEAN
AND TURKISH EMPIRE
FINIS.