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SCUTARI AND THE MAIDEN TOWER,
ON THE BOSPHORUS
T. Allom. H. Adlard.
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.
GOVERNOR’S HOUSE, PHILADELPHIA.
ASIA MINOR
T. Allom. W. Topham.
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.
THE GYGEAN LAKE, AND PLACE OF A THOUSAND TOMBS.
ASIA MINOR
T. Allom. S. Fisher.
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
