We remained the following day at Nicæa, and I am inclined to think that the building I slept in was the very one in which the Nicene Council was formerly held. Nicæa lies on the shores of the Lake of Isnik. The walls and gates of the town are in fairly good condition. There are four gateways in all, and they can be seen from the centre of the market-place. On each of them is an ancient inscription in Latin, stating that the town had been restored by Antoninus. I do not remember which Antoninus it was, but I am quite certain that it was an Antoninus, who was Emperor. He also built some baths, the remains of which are still in existence.
Whilst we were at Nicæa, some Turks, who were digging up stone from the ruins for the construction of public buildings at Constantinople, came across a statue of an armed soldier, of excellent workmanship, and almost perfect. But with their hammers they soon reduced it to a shapeless mass. On our expressing vexation at this act of theirs, the workmen jeered at us, and asked us if we wanted, in accordance with our customs, to worship the statue and pray to it.
From Nicæa (Isnik) we came to Jenysar (Yeni Shehr), next to Ackbyuck, and thence to Bazargyck (Bazarjik), from which place we came to Bosovick, or Cassumbasa, which lies in the gorge of the pass over Mount Olympus. From Nicæa our road lay almost entirely along the slopes of Mount Olympus, until we reached Bosovick.
Here we lodged in a Turkish hostel. Opposite stood a rock somewhat higher than the building, in which was cut a square cistern of considerable size, and from the bottom of it a pipe ran down to the highway road. The ancient inhabitants used in winter to fill the cistern with snow; as it melted, the iced water, trickling down to the road through the pipe, refreshed the thirsty wayfarer.
The Turks consider public works of this kind the noblest sort of almsgiving, inasmuch as they help not only everyone, but everyone equally. Not far from this spot Otmanlik was pointed out to us on our right—the retreat, as I imagine, of the famous Othman, founder of the family which bears his name.
From this pass we descended into wide plains, where we spent our first night under tents, on account of the heat. The place was called Chiausada. Here we saw a subterranean house, which was lighted only by an opening in the roof. We saw also the famous goats[129] from whose fleece—or hair, if you like the word better—is woven the watered stuff known as mohair. The hair of these goats is extremely fine and marvellously flossy, hanging down to the very ground; the goatherds do not shear it, but comb it off, and it is almost as beautiful as silk. The goats are frequently washed in running water. Their food is the scanty dry grass peculiar to these plains, and it is to this that the fineness of their coats is chiefly owing; for it is an ascertained fact, that when the goats are removed elsewhere, their wool does not retain its silky character, but changes with the pasturage; indeed, the whole animal degenerates to such an extent that one would scarcely recognise the breed. These fleeces, after being spun into thread by the women of the country, are taken to Angora,[130] a city of Galatia, and there woven and dyed; further on I will give you a description of the process. In this locality is also to be found that curious breed of sheep with great fat tails; indeed, their flocks consist of little else. The tails weigh from three or four to as much as eight or ten pounds;[131] so big are the tails of some of the older sheep, that it is necessary to furnish them with a carriage for their support, which consists of a little board running on a pair of small wheels, so that the sheep may drag that which it cannot carry. This, perhaps, you will hardly believe, and yet I am telling you the truth. Now, while I fully admit that there is a certain advantage in these tails from the supply of fat which they yield, I must say I found the rest of the meat tough and wanting in flavour, as compared with ordinary mutton. The shepherds, who manage these flocks, never leave the pasture grounds by night or day, carrying their wives and children about with them in waggons, which they use as houses, except on certain occasions when they pitch small tents. These men wander to great distances, choosing plain, hillside, or valley, according to the season of the year and the state of the pasturage.
I flatter myself that I discovered in this district some species of birds which our countrymen have never seen, nor even heard of. Amongst these is a kind of duck, which may fairly be classed among horn-blowers, since its cry is exactly like the sound of a postman’s horn. This bird, in spite of its inability to defend itself, is bold and saucy. The Turks believe that it can frighten evil spirits away. However that may be, it is so fond of its liberty that after being kept a good three years in a farm-yard, if it gets the opportunity, it prefers freedom and hunger to captivity and plenty, and flies off to its old haunts by the river.
From Chiausada we came to Karaly, thence to Hazdengri, and so to Mazzotthoy. We then crossed the river Sangarius (Sakariyeh) which rises in Phrygia and flows into the Black Sea, to Mahathli, thence to Zugli, Chilancyck, Jalanchich, Potughin, and so to Angora (Ancyra)—which the Turks call Angur.
We remained one day at Angora. As the weather was hot we made but short stages. Moreover, our Turks assured us that there was no need for hurry, as the Persian Ambassador was still lingering on the road, and the authorities wished us both to arrive at Amasia as nearly as possible at the same time.
In none of the villages mentioned above did we see anything worth notice, save that, among the Turkish burial places we sometimes lighted on ancient columns, or blocks of fine marble, on which traces still remained of Greek and Roman inscriptions, but so mutilated that they could not be read. It was my amusement, on reaching our lodgings for the night, to inquire for ancient inscriptions, or coins of Greece or Rome, and, if these were not forthcoming, for rare plants.