These ruins were, some years ago, visited by a lady who has made a great noise in Syria – Lady Hester Stanhope. During her residence there she gave a kind of fête to the Bedouins. “The great sheikh,” says Mr. Carne, in his letters from the East, “and some of his officers constantly reside at the ruins. Their habitations are fixed near the great temple; they are all well-disposed and civil in their manners, and their young women are remarkable above all the other tribes for their beauty. It was a lovely day, and the youth of both sexes, dressed in their gayest habiliments, were seated in rows on the fragments of the pillars, friezes, and other ruins with which the ground was covered. Her ladyship, in her Eastern dress, walked among them, addressed them with the utmost affability, and ordered a dollar to be given to each. As she stood with all that Arab array amidst the columns of the great Temple of the Sun, the sight was picturesque and imposing, and the Bedouins hailed her with the utmost enthusiasm ‘queen of Palmyra,’ ‘queen of the desert;’ and, in their enthusiasm, would have proceeded to confer more decided marks of sovereignty; but they were declined.”
This fête was afterwards described to Mr. Buckingham by an Arab, who had been present, in the following hyperbolical style: – “As soon as it was known in the desert that the princess intended to journey to Tadmor, all the tribes were in motion; war was changed to universal peace, and every sheik, or chief, was eager to have the honour of leading the escort. Councils and assemblies were held at Horis and at Hamak, at Sham, and at Thaleb, Damascus, and Aleppo; messengers were sent in every direction, and nothing was neglected that might serve to make the way full of pleasure. When money was talked of, every one rejected it with indignation, and exclaimed, ‘Shall we not serve the princess for honour?’ Every thing being settled, the party set out, preceded by horsemen in front, dromedaries of observation on the right and the left, and camels laden with provisions in the rear. As they passed along, the parched sands of the desert became verdant plains; the burning wells became crystal streams; rich carpets of grass welcomed them at every place where they stopped for repose, and the trees under which they pitched their tents, expanded to twice their size to cover them with shade. When they reached the broken city (the ruins), the princess was taken to the greatest of all the palaces (the Temple of the Sun), and there gold and jewels were bound round her temples, and all the people did homage to her as a queen, by bowing their heads to the dust. On that day Tadmor was richer than Damascus, and more peopled than Constantinople; and if the princess had only remained, it would soon have become the greatest of all the cities of the earth: for men were pouring into it from all quarters; horsemen and chiefs, merchants and munugemein (astrologers and learned men who consult the stars); the fame of her beauty and benevolence having reached to Bagdad and Isfahan, to Bokhara and Samarcand; the greatest men of the East being desirous of beholding it for themselves.” The Arab, who firmly believed all this, narrated the return from Palmyra in the same romantic strains; and ended by repeating his regret at the misfortune of not having been one of the happy multitude, assembled on that occasion; he having been then on some business with another tribe to the south of the Dead Sea72.
Lady Hester is now dead. The following account is taken from a paper published originally at Smyrna: “We announced in our last number the death of Lady Hester Stanhope. Our readers will no doubt be glad to have a brief sketch of the principal circumstances of that extraordinary woman’s life. It was at Djouni, in Syria, that Lady Hester died, after a long illness, at the age of sixty-four. That reader must be indifferent, who reverts not with interest to his recollections of a woman, who has expired on the borders of the desert, amidst the Druses and Turkomans, over whom that noble daughter of the Infidels once exercised so strange and so marvellous a sway. The destiny of Lady Stanhope presents one of those features of which not another instance could, perhaps, be found in the annals of the East. Only imagine forty thousand Arabs suddenly assembled upon the ruins of Palmyra, and these wandering, savage, and indomitable tribes surrounding, in silent astonishment and admiration, a foreign woman, and proclaiming her Sovereign of the Desert and Queen of Palmyra! Convey yourself in thought to the scene of this incredible triumph, and you will then conceive what woman that must have been, who imposed silence on Mussulman fanaticism, and created for herself, as it were, by magic, a sovereignty in the domains of Mohammed. ‘Lady Hester Stanhope,’ says M. de Lamartine, in his admirable work, ‘was a niece of Mr. Pitt. On the death of her uncle, she left England, and visited various parts of Europe. Young, handsome, and rich, she was everywhere received with the attention and interest due to her rank, fortune, mind, and beauty; but she constantly refused to unite her fate to that of her worthiest admirers; and, after spending some years in the principal capitals of Europe, embarked with a numerous suite for Constantinople. The real cause of this expatriation has never been known. Some have ascribed it to the death of a young English officer, who was killed at that period in Spain, and whom an eternal regret rendered for ever present in Lady Hester’s heart: others have imputed her voluntary banishment to a mere love of adventure in a young person of an enterprising and courageous character. However this might be, she departed, spent some years at Constantinople, and then sailed for Syria in an English vessel, which carried also the larger part of her fortune, as well as jewellery, trinkets, and presents of all sorts, of very considerable value.’ The vessel encountered a storm in the gulf of Macri, on the road to Caramania; the ship was wrecked, Lady Hester Stanhope’s property was all lost, and it was as much as she could do to save her own life. Nothing, however, could shake her resolution. She returned to England, gathered the remainder of her fortune, sailed again for Syria, and landed at Latakia, the ancient Laodicea. She had at first thought of fixing her abode at Broussa, at the foot of the Olympus; but Broussa is a commercial city, situate on the avenues to the Ottoman capital, and reckoning not less than sixty thousand inhabitants; and Lady Hester sought the independence and solitude of the desert. She therefore selected the wilderness of Mount Lebanon, whose extreme ramifications lose themselves in the sands. Ruined Palmyra – Zenobia’s ancient capital – suited her fancy. The noble exile took up her residence at Djouni, prepared for every vicissitude. ‘Europe,’ said she, ‘is a monotonous residence; its nations are unworthy of freedom, and endless revolution are their only prospects.’ She applied herself to the study of the Arabic language, and strove to obtain a thorough acquaintance with the character and manners of the Syrian people. One day, dressed in the costume of the Osmanlis, she set out for Jerusalem, Damascus, Aleppo, and the desert; she advanced amidst a caravan loaded with wealth, tents, and presents for the Scheiks, and was soon surrounded by all the tribes, who knelt to her, and submitted to her supremacy. It was not solely by her magnificence, that Lady Hester had excited the admiration of the Arabs: her courage had been proved on more than one occasion; and she had always faced peril with a boldness and energy which the tribes well remembered. Lady Hester Stanhope knew also how to flatter the Mahomedan prejudices. She held no intercourse with Christians and Jews; she spent whole days in the grotto of a santon, who explained the Koran to her; and never appeared in public without that mien of majestic and grave inspiration, which was always unto oriental nations the characteristic of prophets. With her, however, this conduct was not so much the result of design, as of a decided proneness to every species of excitement and originality. Lady Hester Stanhope’s first abode was but a monastery. It was soon transformed into an oriental palace, with pavilions, orange-gardens and myrtles, over which spread the foliage of the cedar, such as it grows in the mountains of Lebanon. The traveller, to whom Lady Hester opened this sanctuary, would behold her clad in oriental garments. Her head was covered with a turban made of red and white cashmere. She wore a long tunic, with open loose sleeves; large Turkish trousers, the folds of which hung over yellow morocco boots, embroidered with silk. Her shoulders were covered with a sort of burnous, and a yataghan hung to her waist. Lady Hester Stanhope had a serious and imposing countenance; her noble and mild features had a majestic expression, which her high stature and the dignity of her movements enhanced. The day came when all this préstige, so expensively kept up, suddenly vanished. Lady Hester’s fortune rapidly declined; her income yearly decreased; in short, the substantial resources, which had, at one time, sustained the magic of her extraordinary domination, were daily forsaking her. The Queen of Palmyra then fell back into the rank of mere mortals, and she who had signed absolute firmans, enabling the traveller to visit in security the regions of Palmyra – she, whose authority the Sublime Porte had tacitly acknowledged – soon saw her people disown her omnipotency. She was left the title of queen, but it was but an empty name, a mere recollection; and again the monastery’s silence ruled over the solitude of Djouni. A queen, stripped of her glory of a day, Lady Hester Stanhope has expired, the sport of fate, at the moment the East is convulsed. She has expired in obscurity and loneliness, without even mingling her name with the great events of which it is now the theatre.”
All this, if no exaggeration had been employed, might have served to the excitation of a smile: but the matter did not rest there. Lady Hester, or the Princess, as she was styled, having given to the Sheik an absurd paper of authority, no one is permitted to visit Palmyra without paying a thousand piastres! “The consequence of which is,” says Mr. Carne, “several travellers have left Syria without seeing the finest ruins in the world73.”
“Night overtook us,” says Mr. Williams, “before we reached Patras, anciently called Patræ. But such a night! the moon was in full splendour; and while we travelled among the mysterious scenes, we were often tempted to pause and ask what could be those shadowy towers, that were perpetually arresting our attention? Nothing could be more pleasing or more romantic, than the winding of our cavalry among the projecting rocks and dismal hollows, when first a gleam of light prevailed, and then a solemn darkness veiled and softened all in sweet composure. The glow-worms, peeping from the bushes, seemed like fairies’ eyes; fireflies glanced in thousands, like the sun’s bright rays stealing on rippling waters in ebon shade; and how divine the evening star appeared, tipping the dark chain of Mount Olonos! The blackbird, too, with its train of dear associations, awakened our peculiar interest. All seemed, by their look of delight to say, ‘Sing on, sweet bird! and tell us of our absent friends and beloved country!’”
Patræ was a town of Peloponnesus, anciently called Aroe.
Diana had a temple there, and a statue formed of ivory and gold, which was considered a masterpiece. Apollo also had a temple, in which was a statue of the god, raised by Icadius.
In the time of Pausanias, Patræ was also adorned with porticoes, a theatre, and an odéum; the last of which was superior to any in Greece, with one exception, viz. that of Herodes Atticus at Athens. In the lower part of the city was a temple of Bacchus, in which was an image preserved in a chest. There was also one of Ceres, with a pleasant grove and a prophetic fountain, which determined the events of illness. After supplicating the goddess with incense, the sick person is said to have appeared, living or dead, in a mirror suspended so as to touch the surface of the water74.
Patræ was selected by Augustus as a place in which to settle some of those, who had fought with him at Actium. Some of the cities of Achaia were made tributary to the Patrenses, and they continued long to flourish after the decay of the neighbouring states.
They were rich in the monuments of art. Pausanias enumerates nineteen or twenty temples, besides statues, altars, and marble sepulchres, existing in his time in the city, the port, and the sacred groves.
Patras, though it has now recovered the destruction, was wholly destroyed by the Turks in 1770. We must, however, first state, that in 1447 it made the best defence against the Turks of any place in the Peloponnesus. In 1532 it was taken and ransacked by Doria. But of all its distresses the last was the most terrible; this was in 1770. It had lately been freed by the temporary success of Greek insurgents from the yoke of the Turks; but the appearance of the Athenians, who rushed through the passes of the isthmus to the assistance of the Mahometans, soon decided the fate of the place. An army of ten thousand, both horse and foot, entered the town through every avenue. It was not a contest, but a carnage: not a Greek capable of bearing arms was spared, and the houses were all burned to the ground75.
In forty years, Patras recovered this calamity, and is now said to be a flourishing place; but Mr. Dodwell describes it as being composed, like all other Turkish cities, of dirty and narrow streets; with houses built of earth, baked in the sun; with eaves overhanging the streets.
The few remains, which are in Patras, are of Roman construction; and those neither grand, interesting, nor well preserved. In the castle, however, there are said to be several beautiful forms of female statues: and here we have to state an instance of barbarism, strikingly illustrative of the character of the more ignorant portion of the Turks. Some marble columns and mutilated statues having been found, a few years ago, in the garden of a Turk, he immediately broke them to pieces!
There are several large fissures in the walls of the castle, occasioned by an earthquake, about forty years ago; in which forty persons were killed in the town, and thirteen crushed by the falling of one of the turrets.
“Nothing can be,” says Mr. Hobhouse, “more pleasant than the immediate vicinity of this town; which is one blooming garden of orange and lemon plantations, of olive groves, and currant grounds. The temple and the statues, the theatre, the columns and the marble porch, have disappeared: but the valleys and the mountains, and some, not frequent, fragments, of more value than all the costly monuments of barbaric labour, – these still remain, and remind the traveller, that he treads the ground once trod by the heroes and sages of antiquity. To traverse the native country of those, whose deeds and whose wisdom have been proposed to all the polished nations of every succeeding age, as the models which they should endeavour to imitate, but must never hope to equal, with no other emotions than would arise in passing through regions never civilised, is unnatural; is impossible! No one would roam with the same indifference through the sad solitudes of Greece, and the savage wilds of America; nor is the expression of feelings, which it is the object and end of all liberal education to instil and encourage, to be derided as the unprofitable effusion of folly and affectation.”76
It was a long time before the Greeks had any regard to Macedonia. The kings, living retired in woods and mountains, it seemed not to be considered as a part of Greece.
Pella was the capital of the kings of Macedon. There Philip lived and reigned, and here Alexander was born. After his death the kingdom of Macedon frequently changed masters. Philip Aridæus was succeeded by Cassander, who left three sons. Philip, the eldest, died presently after his father. The other two contended for the crown, without enjoying it; both dying soon after without issue.
Demetrius Poliorcetes, Pyrrhus, and Lysimachus, made themselves masters of all, or the greatest part of Macedonia, sometimes in conjunction, and at other times separately.
After the death of Lysimachus, Seleucus possessed himself of Macedonia, but did not long enjoy it.
Ptolemy Ceraunus having slain the preceding prince, seized the kingdom, and possessed it alone but a very short time; having lost his life in a battle with the Gauls, who had made an irruption into that country.
Sosthenes, who defeated the Gauls, reigned also but a short time.
Antigonus Gonatus, the son of Demetrius Poliorcetes, obtained peaceable possession of the kingdom of Macedonia, and transmitted these dominions to his descendants, after he had reigned thirty-four years.
He was succeeded by his son, Demetrius, who reigned ten years, and then died; leaving a son, named Philip, who was but two years old.
Antigonus Doson, reigned twelve years, in the quality of guardian to the young prince.
Philip, after the death of Antigonus, ascended the throne, at the age of fourteen years. After him, Perseus; who was defeated and taken prisoner by Paulus Æmilius; and Macedonia, in consequence of that victory, was added to the provinces of the Roman empire, B. C. 160.
For this success Paulus Æmilius was honoured with a triumph; and as a description of that ceremony will serve to diversify our pages in a very agreeable manner, we adopt the account afforded us by Plutarch. “The people erected scaffolds in the Forum and Circus, and all other parts of the city where they could best behold the pomp. The spectators were clad in white garments; all the temples were open and full of garlands and perfumes; the ways cleared and cleansed by a great many officers and tipstaffs, that drove away such as thronged the passage, or straggled up and down. This triumph lasted three days. On the first, which was scarce long enough for the sight, were to be seen the statues, pictures, and images, of an extraordinary bigness, which were taken from the enemy, drawn upon seven hundred and fifty chariots. On the second, was carried, in a great many wains, the fairest and the richest armour of the Macedonians, both of brass and steel, all newly furbished and glittering; which, although piled up with the greatest art and order, yet seemed to be tumbled on heaps carelessly and by chance; helmets were thrown on shields, coats of mail upon greaves, Cretan targets, and Thracian bucklers and quivers of arrows lay huddled among the horses’ bits; and through these appeared the points of naked swords, intermixed with long spears. All these arms were tied together in a way, that they knocked against one another as they were drawn along, and made a harsh and terrible noise; so that the very spoils of the conquered could not be beheld without dread. After these waggons loaden with armour, there followed three thousand men, who carried the silver that was coined, in seven hundred and fifty vessels, each of which weighed three talents, and was carried by four men. Others brought silver bowls, and goblets, and cups, all disposed in such order as to make the best show, and all valuable, as well for their bigness, as the thickness of their engraved work. On the third day, early in the morning, first came the trumpeters, who did not sound as they were wont in a procession or solemn entry; but such a charge as the Romans use when they encourage their soldiers to fight. Next followed young men, girt about with girdles curiously wrought, which led to the sacrifice of hundred and twenty stalled oxen, with their horns gilded, and their heads adorned with ribands and garlands; and with these were boys that carried platters of silver and gold. After this was brought the gold coin, which was divided into vessels that weighed three talents, like to those that contained the silver; they were in number fourscore wanting three. These were followed by those that brought the consecrated bowl, which Æmilius caused to be made, that weighed ten talents, and was all beset with precious stones. Then were exposed to view the cups of Antigonus and Seleucus, and such as were made after the fashion invented by Thericles, and all the gold plate that was used at Perseus’s table. Next to these came Perseus’s chariot, in which his armour was placed, and on that his diadem. And after a little intermission, the king’s children were led captives, and with them a train of nurses, masters, and governors, who all wept, and stretched forth their hands to the spectators, and taught the little infants to beg and entreat their compassion. There were two sons and a daughter, who, by reason of their tender age, were altogether insensible of the greatness of their misery; which insensibility of their condition rendered it much more deplorable; insomuch, that Perseus himself was scarce regarded as he went along, whilst pity had fixed the eyes of the Romans upon the infants, and many of them could not forbear tears; all beheld the sight with a mixture of sorrow and joy, until the children were past. After his children and their attendants, came Perseus himself, clad all in black, and wearing slippers, after the fashion of his country. He looked like one altogether astonished and deprived of reason, through the greatness of his misfortunes. Next followed a great company of his friends and familiars, whose countenances were disfigured with grief, and who testified to all that beheld them by their tears, and their continual looking upon Perseus, that it was his hard fortune they so much lamented, that they were regardless of their own. After these were carried four hundred crowns all made of gold, and sent from the cities by their respective ambassadors to Æmilius, as a reward due to his valour. Then he himself came seated on a chariot magnificently adorned (a man worthy to be beheld, even without these ensigns of power): he was clad in a garment of purple interwoven with gold, and held out a laurel branch in his right hand. All the army, in like manner, with boughs of laurel in their hands, and divided into bands and companies, followed the chariot of their commander; some singing odes (according to the usual custom) mingled with raillery; others, songs of triumph, and the praises of Æmilius’s deeds, who was admired and accounted happy by all men; yet unenvied by every one that was good.”
“The ancient capital of the kings of Macedon,” says Monsieur de Pouqueville, “does not announce itself in its desolation to the eye of the stranger, as at Athens and Corinth, by the display of the remains of its ancient splendour. Its vestiges are found on an eminence sloping to the south-west, and surrounded by marshes. In vain, however, does the traveller look for the walls of the city, for the citadel, for the dykes constructed to defend from inundation the temples, buildings, and the monuments of its grandeur. The barbarians from the North, the Romans, and the succession of ages, have destroyed even the ruins. The once powerful city of Pella is now sunk down into fragments of tombs, masses of brick and tile, and about threescore huts, inhabited by Bulgarians, with a tower garrisoned by about a dozen Albanians. Such are the present edifices, population, and military establishment of Pella, once the powerful capital of Alexander and Perseus! A low Mahommedan now commands, whip in hand, in the city where Alexander first saw the light; and the paternal seat of that monarch, whose dominions extended from the Adriatic to the Indus, was, some years ago, the property of Achmet, son of Ismael, Bey of Serres77.”