These mountains continue southward through the hook-shaped peninsula of Magnesia, and terminate opposite the island of Eubœa. They formed a strong bulwark of defence in the time of ancient Greece. The hordes of the barbarians stopped in front of this insurmountable barrier. They were compelled to seek a practicable road to the west of it, through the valley of the Peneus, which is rightly looked upon as the natural frontier of Hellas. Hence the great strategical importance of Pharsalus, in Southern Thessaly, which protects the gorges of the Othrys and the only access to the plains of the Sperchius. The pass of Petra, at the northern extremity of Olympus, was carefully guarded for similar reasons.
A large portion of the area bounded by the crystalline rocks of Olympus and Ossa, and by the cretaceous range of the Pindus, running parallel with the former, consists of plains originally covered by vast lakes. The Gulf of Volo approaches close to the shrunken remains of one of these lakes—that of Karla, or Bœbeis—into which the waters of the swampy plain of Larissa discharge themselves. The dwellers on the shores of this lake say that a dull rumbling noise may now and then be heard at its bottom, which they ascribe to the bellowing of some invisible animal, but which is more probably the gurgling sound of the water penetrating into a sink-hole. Other lake basins are met with at the foot of Olympus towards the west and north-west, and some of the valleys of the upper tributaries of the Peneus are covered with alluvium left behind by the receding waters. Hercules, according to some—Neptune, according to others—drained all these lakes of Thessaly into the Ægean, by opening the narrow gorge between Olympus and Ossa, known to the ancients as the Valley of Tempe. This narrow valley is due, no doubt, to the slow erosive action of water. To the Hellenes it realised their ideals of refreshing coolness and beauty, and once every nine years an embassy arrived from Delphi to pluck the laurel-leaves destined for the victors in the Pythian games. The {113} Valley of Tempe is indeed most beautiful; the transparent and rapid waters of the Peneus, the foliage of the planes, the shrubberies of laurel-roses, and the red-hued cliffs—these combine frequently, and form pictures which delight the senses and impress the mind. But, taken as a whole, this narrow and sombre valley fairly deserves its modern name of Lykostomo, or “wolf’s gorge.” Even in Thessaly, and, above all, in the Pindus, there are localities more smiling and more beautiful than this famous Valley of Tempe.
The upper valleys of the Peneus, or Salembria, abound in natural curiosities, such as defiles, sinks, and caverns. To the north-west of Mount Olympus, the turbid Titaresius flows through the narrow gorge of Saranta Poros, or of the Four Fords, which was looked upon in former times as one of the gates of hell.
To the west, on the Upper Peneus, are the limestone hills of Khassia, rising to a height of 5,000 feet, and the elevated spurs of Mount Pindus, which have become celebrated through the “works of the gods,” or theoktista, which surmount them. These “works” consist of isolated towers, crags, and pillars, the most famous amongst them being those on the banks of the Peneus, not far from Trikala. Zealous followers of Simeon the Stylite conceived the idea of building their monasteries on the tops of some of the larger of these natural columns or pedestals. Perched on these heights, and condemned never to leave them, they receive their provisions and visitors in a basket attached to the end of a long rope, and hoisted aloft by means of a windlass. An aërial voyage of no less than 220 feet has to be performed in order to reach in this manner the monastery of Barlaam, and visitors are at liberty to effect this ascent by means of ladders fastened against the rocky precipices. The religious zeal, however, which led monks to select these eyries for their habitations is gradually dying out. Out of twenty monasteries which existed formerly, there remain now but seven, and only one of these, that of Meteora, is inhabited by as many as twenty monks.
Of all the Greek countries which still remain under the dominion of the Turks, there is none which has so frequently sought to regain its independence, none which is claimed by the Hellenes with equal ardour as a portion of their common fatherland and the cradle of their race. Thessaly is, in truth, a portion of Greece, as far as the traditions of the past, a common language, and the general aspects of the country can make it so. But it is a more fertile country, its vegetation is more luxuriant, its landscapes are more smiling and delightful. We may not frequently meet with the deep blue sky which calls forth our admiration in Southern Greece, for the vapours rising from the Ægean Sea are attracted by Olympus and other mountains; but this moisture imparts a charm to distant views, and, by protecting the earth against the scorching rays of the sun in summer, it contributes largely towards the fertility of the soil.
The Greek population of Thessaly is strongly mixed with foreign elements, which it has gradually assimilated. Neither Serbs nor Bulgarians remain now in the country, although the Upper Titaresius is known as Vurgari, or “river of the Bulgarians.” The Zinzares, or Macedo-Walakhs, who were so numerous in the Middle Ages, now only occupy a few villages. Though proud of their Roman {114} descent, they gradually become Hellenized. Most of the words by which they designate objects of civilised life are Greek, their priests and schoolmasters preach or teach in Greek, and they themselves speak Greek in addition to their native language. They lose ground, moreover, through an excessive emigration. Even the cultivators of the soil amongst them have not quite given up their nomadic habits, and the roving life of a herdsman or of a pedlar exercises an irresistible attraction upon them. The Turks inhabit in compact masses the lowlands around Larissa, and that town itself is Mussulman to a large extent. The hilly tracts to the north, between the Inje Karasu and the Lakes of Kastoria and Ostrovo, are likewise inhabited by Turks, who differ from the Osmanli of the rest of the empire, and are known as Koniarides. Turks also occupy a portion of Mount Ossa. It is easy to tell from a distance whether a village is inhabited by Turks or by Greeks. M. Mézières has observed that “the Turks plant trees for the sake of shade, the Greeks for the sake of profit.” Near the villages of the former we find cypresses and plane-trees, near those of the latter orchards and vineyards. The Koniarides are believed by some authors to have come to Thessaly and Macedonia as colonists in the eleventh century, by invitation of the Eastern emperor. They govern themselves through democratic representative bodies, and are respected by all, because of their probity, their hospitality, and their rustic virtues.
The Greeks are morally inferior to the Turkish peasantry, but they surpass them in intelligence and industry. In the seventeenth century there took place amongst them even a sort of revival similar to the Renaissance of Western Europe, and the love of art was developed sufficiently far to give rise to a school of painters in the villages of Olympus. Faithful to their national traditions and the instincts of their race, the Greeks of Thessaly have sought to organize themselves into self-governing commonwealths. In their free towns, or kephalokhori, they are permitted to elect their town councils, establish schools, and appoint what teachers they like. They know how to get the Turkish pasha not to meddle in their local affairs. They pay the taxes demanded by the Turks, as their ancestors paid them to Athens or some other Greek city, but in every other respect they are free citizens governing themselves. The contrast between these independent commonwealths and the chifliks of Mussulman proprietors cultivated by Greek farmers is most striking. The land of the free proprietors is, as a rule, far less fertile than that included within these chifliks; yet it produces more, and its cultivators live in comparative ease.
The Greeks of Thessaly bestow much care upon the education of growing generations. Even the most miserable Greek village in the Pindus can boast of a school, which is visited by the young people up to the age of fifteen. As an instance of the commercial spirit of the Thessalians we may mention the Weavers’ Co-operative Association, formed in the last century in the town of Ambelakia, delightfully situated amongst orchards and vineyards on the southern slopes of the Valley of Tempe. This powerful association wisely limited its dividends to six per cent., and expended the surplus profits upon an extension of its business. For {115} many years it enjoyed the greatest prosperity, but the wars of the empire, which closed the markets of Germany against it, brought about its ruin. Co-operation likewise partly accounts for the flourishing cloth manufacture of the twenty-four wealthy Greek villages on the peninsula of Magnesia, to the north of the Gulf of Volo. This district, together with that of Verria, to the north of the Inje Karasu, is probably the most prosperous in all the Greek provinces of Turkey, and it is at least partly indebted for this prosperity to its happy geographical position, being far away from great strategical high-roads.[32]
IV.—ALBANIA AND EPIRUS.
The name of SHKIPERI, which the Albanians give to the country they inhabit, is supposed to mean “land of rocks,” and no designation could be more appropriate. Stony mountains occupy the whole of the country, from the frontiers of Montenegro to those of Greece. The only plain of any extent is that of Scutari (Shkodra), to the south of the Montenegrin plateau, which forms the natural frontier of Albania towards the north. The bottom of this depression is occupied by the Lake of Scutari; and the Drin, the only river of the Balkan peninsula which is navigable for a considerable distance from the sea, debouches upon it. The Drin is formed by the junction of the White and the Black Drin, and in former times it only discharged a portion of its waters temporarily into the Boyana River, which drains the Lake of Scutari. But in 1858 it opened itself a new channel opposite to the village of Miet, about twenty miles above its mouth, and since that time the greater volume of its waters flows in the direction of Scutari, frequently inundating the lower quarters of that town. The marshy tracts on the Lower Drin are dangerous to cross during the heat of summer, and the fevers of the Boyana are the most dreaded along the whole of that coast.