Part 10

If I had not visited the Black Sea, when I had an opportunity of sailing thither, I should have deserved to be blamed for my laziness, since the ancients held it to be quite as great an exploit to have visited the Black Sea, as to have sailed to Corinth. Well, we had a delightful voyage, and I was allowed to enter some of the royal kiosks. On the folding doors of one of these palaces I saw a picture of the famous battle[121] between Selim and Ismael, King of the Persians, executed in masterly style, in tesselated work. I saw also a great many pleasure-grounds belonging to the Sultan, situated in the most charming valleys. Their loveliness was almost entirely the work of nature; to art they owed little or nothing. What a fairyland! What a landscape for waking a poet’s fancy! What a retreat for a scholar to retire to! I do declare that, as I said just now, these spots seem to grieve and ask for Christian help and Christian care once more; and still truer are these words of Constantinople, or rather of the whole of Greece. That land was once most prosperous; today it is subject to an unnatural bondage. It seems as if the country, which in ancient times discovered the fine arts and every liberal science, were demanding back that civilisation which it gave to us, and were adjuring us, by the claim of a common faith, to be its champion against savage barbarism. But it is all in vain. The princes of Christendom have other objects in view; and, after all, the Greeks are not under heavier bondage to the Turks, than we are to our own vices—luxury, intemperance, sloth, lust, pride, ambition, avarice, hatred, envy, malice. By these our souls are so weighed down and buried, that they cannot look up to heaven, or entertain one glorious thought, or contemplate one noble deed. The ties of a common faith, and the duty we owe our brethren ought to have drawn us to their assistance, even though glory and honour had no charm for our dull hearts; at any rate, self-interest, which is the first thing men think of nowadays, should have made us anxious to rescue lands so fair, with all their great resources and advantages, from the hand of the barbarian, that we might hold them in his stead. At present we are seeking across the wide seas the Indies[122] and Antipodes. And why? It is because in those lands there are simple, guileless creatures from whom rich booty may be torn without the cost of a single wound. _For these expeditions religion supplies the pretext and gold the motive._

This was not the fashion with our ancestors. They scorned to place themselves on the level of a trader by seeking those lands where gold was most plentiful, but deemed that land most desirable which gave them the best opportunity of proving their valour and performing their duty. They, too, had their toil; they, too, had their dangers; they, too, had their distant expeditions; but honour was the prize they sought, not profit. When they came home from their wars, they came home not richer in _wealth_, but richer in _renown_.[123]

These words are for your private ear, for perhaps some may hold it foul wrong for a man to suggest that the moral tone of the present day leaves aught to be desired. However that may be, I see that the arrows are being sharpened for our destruction; and I fear it will turn out that if we _will_ not fight for glory, we shall be _compelled_ to fight for existence.

I will now take you back to the sea which the ancients call Pontus and the Turks call Caradenis, or the Black Sea. It pours through a narrow outlet into the Thracian Bosphorus, down which it rolls, beating against the curving headlands with many an eddy till it reaches Constantinople after the space of one day. At this point it rushes into the Sea of Marmora by a passage almost as narrow as that by which it enters the Bosphorus. In the middle of the mouth next the Black Sea is a rock with a column, on the base of which a Roman name is written in Latin characters (‘Octavian,’ if I remember rightly); then on the European shore is a lofty tower, which serves as a lighthouse to ships by night. They call it Pharos.[124] Not far from it a brook flows into the sea, from whose bed we gathered some pebbles almost equal to the onyx and sardonyx; at any rate, when they are polished they are nearly as brilliant. A few miles from the entrance I mentioned are shown the straits across which Darius led his army in his expedition against the Scythians of Europe; then half-way between the northern and southern entrances to the Bosphorus stand two castles opposite each other, one in Europe and the other in Asia. The latter was held by the Turks a long time before the attack on Constantinople; the former was built by Mahomet, and fortified with strong towers, a few years before he stormed Constantinople. At present the Turks use it for the incarceration of prisoners of rank. Not long ago, Lazarus, an

Albanian chief, made his escape from it. He was recaptured with the Spaniards at Castel Nuovo,[125] and brought back to Constantinople. For this offence he suffered the fearful punishment of impalement, but bore his sufferings with wonderful composure.

And now, perhaps, you will want me to tell you something about the floating islands, called the Cyanean[126] islands, or Symplegades. I honestly confess that during the few hours I was there I was unable to discover any Cyanean islands, though possibly they had floated off somewhere else! If you are disposed to be curious on this head you will before long have a more accurate account from P. Gilles,[127] whose researches into all subjects of this kind are most precise; from me you must not expect to hear of more than meets the traveller’s eye.

One matter it would be unpardonable to pass by in silence, viz. that Polybius is utterly wrong in the conclusion which he deduces from various arguments, that in process of time the Black Sea would be so choked by the alluvial soil brought into it by the Danube, the Dneiper, and other rivers, as to become unnavigable. He is utterly wrong, I say, for there is not one atom more difficulty in sailing over the Black Sea now than there was in his days.

This is one of those numerous instances in which time and experience upset conclusions, which in theory seemed impregnable.

In former days everyone subscribed to the opinion that the lands under the torrid zone were uninhabitable, and yet the accounts of men who have visited those regions prove that they are for the most part quite as thickly populated as other countries; nay more, they tell us that at the very time when the sun is at its highest, and its rays fall perpendicularly on the earth, the heat[128] is tempered by continuous rains shading and cooling those lands.

When the Sultan had received the despatches announcing my arrival, orders were sent to the Governor of Constantinople to convey us over to Asia, and send us on to Amasia (or Amazeia, as it is spelt on ancient coins). Accordingly, we made our preparations, our guides were appointed, and on March 9 we crossed into Anatolia, as the Turks now call Asia. On that day we did not get further than Scutari. This village lies on the Asiatic shore opposite ancient Byzantium, on the very ground, or possibly a little below, where the site of the famous city of Chalcedon is supposed to be.

The Turks thought it quite sufficient progress for one day to get horses, carriages, luggage, and suite across the straits; their special reason for not going further on that day was, that, if they had forgotten anything necessary for the journey, (a very ordinary circumstance), they would not have far to send for it. Leaving Scutari on the next day, we passed through fields full of lavender, and other fragrant plants. Here we saw a great many big tortoises crawling about. They were not afraid of us, and we should have caught and eaten them with the greatest pleasure, had we not shrunk from hurting the feelings of the Turks who accompanied us; for had they touched them, or so much as seen them brought to our table, they would have held themselves to be defiled, and would have required endless washings to remove their imaginary pollution. You will remember my telling you of the extent to which both Greeks and Turks carry their superstition in avoiding contact with animals of this kind. Since no one, therefore, would snare as vermin a creature so harmless, and no one will eat it, the consequence is that tortoises swarm in these parts. I kept one which had two heads for several days, and it would have lived longer had I not neglected it.

That day we came to a village called Cartali. By the way, I shall from this point be glad to give you the names of our halting-places. The journey to Constantinople has been taken by many, but the road to Amasia has, to the best of my knowledge, been traversed by no European before us. From Cartali we came to Gebise, a town of Bithynia, which they think was formerly Libyssa, famous as the burial-place of Hannibal. From it there is a most lovely view over the sea and bay of Ismid; I observed also some cypresses of extraordinary height and girth.

Our fourth stage from Constantinople brought us to Nicomedia (Ismid). It is an ancient city of great renown; but we saw nothing in it worth looking at except its ruins and rubbish, which contained, in the remnants of column and architrave, all that is left of its ancient grandeur. The citadel, which stands on a hill, is in a better state of preservation. Shortly before our arrival, a long wall of white marble had been discovered under the earth by some people who had been digging, which, I am inclined to think, formed part of the ancient palace of the kings of Bithynia.

After leaving Nicomedia, we crossed the range of Mount Olympus, and arrived at the village of Kasockli; thence to Nicæa (Isnik), which we did not reach till late in the evening. I heard not far from the city loud shouting, and what seemed to be cries of mockery and insult issuing from human lips. I asked what it was, suggesting that it might proceed from some boatmen on the Lake of Isnik, which was not far off, and that they were chaffing us for being so late on the road. They told me that it was the howlings of certain wild beasts, which the Turks call jackals. They are a species of wolf, not so large as the common wolf, but larger than foxes, and quite a match for the former in greed and gluttony. They hunt in packs, doing no harm to human beings or cattle, and obtaining their food by thievery and cunning rather than by force. Hence the Turks call sharpers and swindlers, especially if they come from Asia, jackals. They enter the tents, and even the houses, of the Turks at night, and devour any eatables they find; indeed, if they can get nothing else, they gnaw any leathern article they may chance upon, such as boots, leggings, belts, scabbards, &c. They are very clever in this manner of stealing, except in one particular, for, absurdly enough, they sometimes give evidence against themselves. When in the very act of stealing, if one of the pack outside happens to set up a howl, they answer the cry, quite forgetting where they are. The sound awakes the inmates; they catch up their arms and visit the thieves, whom they have taken red-handed, with condign punishment.

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.

It is a practice of the Turks to cover in the tombs of their friends with huge stones, which they bring from a great distance. No earth is thrown upon the graves, and but for these stones they would lie open. They are intended to furnish the dead man with a convenient seat when he pleads his case, as he will have to do—according to their notion—with his evil angel as his accuser and examiner, and his good angel as counsel for the defence. The object of placing a heavy stone on the grave is to protect the body from dogs, wolves, and other beasts; the most pertinacious of which is the hyena, a creature often met with in these parts. It burrows its way into the graves, pulls out the bodies, and carries them off to its den, the mouth of which is marked by a huge heap of bones of men, horses, and other animals. The hyena is a creature not quite so tall as a wolf, but quite as long in body. Its skin resembles that of a wolf, except that the hair is rougher, and it is also marked with large black spots; the head is firmly attached to the backbone, without any joint between, so that when it wants to look back it must turn right round. They say that it has, in the place of teeth, one continuous bone.

The Turks, like the ancients, think that the hyena has great efficacy in love charms, and though there were two hyenas at Constantinople when I was there, the owners refused to sell them to me; assigning as a reason that they were keeping them for the Sultana, i.e. the wife of the Sultan—the popular belief being that she retains her husband’s affection by means of philtres and sorceries. Belon,[132] I must tell you, is wrong in thinking that the civet cat is the same as the hyena.

Now for one of the best jokes you ever heard in your life. I will tell you the story just as I had it from the lips of the natives. They say that the hyena, which they call Zirtlan, understands the language of men (the ancients, by the way, said that it also imitated it), and that it is therefore captured in the following way. The hunters go to its den, which is not hard to find, being marked by a heap of bones, as I mentioned before. One of them enters with a rope, one end of which he leaves in the hands of his friends outside the cave. He creeps in, saying, ‘Joctur, joctur ucala,’ that is, ‘I cannot find it; it is not here.’ Meantime, imagining from what he says that its hiding-place is not discovered, the beast remains perfectly still, until the hunter has succeeded in attaching the rope to its leg, shouting out all the time ‘that the hyena is not there.’ Then, with the same words, he goes back, and as soon as he has got out of the den he shouts out at the top of his voice that the hyena is inside; the creature, understanding what he says, makes a rush to escape, but all in vain, the hunters hold him fast by the rope round his leg. After this fashion they say it is killed; or, if pains be taken, it may be captured alive; but this is a difficult matter, for it is a fierce brute, and makes a stout resistance. So much for the hyena.

We found, in some places, ancient coins in great abundance, especially those of the later emperors, Constantinus, Constans, Justinus, Valens, Valentinianus, Numerianus, Probus, Tacitus, &c. In many places the Turks used them for the drachm and half-drachm weights. They call them ‘giaur manguri,’ or, ‘the infidel’s money.’

There were, besides, many coins of the neighbouring cities of Asia, Amysus, Sinope, Comana, Amastris, and lastly, some of Amasia, the city to which we were going. Talking of coins, a coppersmith roused my anger by telling me, when I inquired for coins, that a few days before he had had a whole potful of them, and that, thinking they were worthless, he had melted them down, and made several copper kettles out of the metal. I was greatly vexed at the destruction of so many interesting relics; but I had my revenge. I informed him that, if he had not destroyed the coins, I would have given him a hundred gold pieces for them. So I sent him away quite as unhappy at the loss of the windfall which he had been so near getting, as I was at the sacrifice of these records of antiquity.

We did not meet with many new botanical specimens on the road. The plants were, for the most part, identical with those in our country; the only difference being that they grew more or less luxuriantly, according to the nature of the soil.

We sought unsuccessfully for the balsam tree, which Dioscorides tells us is indigenous in Pontus, so that I cannot tell whether the stock has died out, or migrated to another country.