Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of Asia Minor

MOSQUE OF BUYUK DJAMI, SCUTARI.
ASIA MINOR

T. Allom. J. Redaway.

This epithet “Buyuk,” or great, was conferred upon it, to distinguish it from the lesser mosques which adorn Scutari. It is known by the smallness of its dome, and by the balcony or gallery which runs round the outside. It stands on the edge of the water, near the scala, or landing-place for passing caïques. Beside it is the usual fountain, covered with the common aquatic birds, which the considerate charity of the Turks renders so tame, that they mix undisturbed with the bustle of the passengers. On the right is seen the distant summits of the cypress which fill the great cemetery.

FOUNTAIN NEAR THE BABU HUMMAYOUN.
OR GREAT GATE OF THE SERAGLIO

T. Allom. L. Challis.

After climbing through various narrow, winding, steep, dark, and dirty streets, which form the great interior of the avenues leading through the city, the stranger emerges near the summit of one of the seven hills; and here the town assumes somewhat of a new and spacious character. He enters an irregular but open and extensive area, which was the “Forum Augusti” under the Greek empire, and which the Turks have not yet entirely choked up with narrow lanes. Here he walks through wider, more level, and better-paved streets, and sees, almost clustered together, the mosque of Santa Sophia, a noble kisla, or barrack, the opening of the Atmeidan, a beautiful fountain, and the Babu Humayun, or great entrance into the seraglio.

The fountain, somewhat similar to that already described, was erected by Achmet III. in the beginning of the last century. It is crowned with domes, and ornamented with the usual arabesque sculpture, but it is particularly distinguished by bearing sundry poetical inscriptions composed by the imperial builder of it.

Between the fountain and one entrance to the mosque of Santa Sophia is seen that of the seraglio. This gate, distinguished by its lofty arch, was therefore called Babu Humayun, or “the high door,” by the Turks, which the French translate into “Sublime Porte:”¹⁸ the term has become a designation for the cabinet of Turkish diplomacy, as before noticed. The gate was originally erected by Mahomet II. when he entered the Christian capital, and converted the residence of the priests of Santa Sophia into a palace for himself. It consists of a massive and clumsy pavilion, formerly crowned with turrets; it is pierced by the high door from which it takes its name, and under the arch is an inscription on a broad tablet. Above are one large and three smaller apertures for windows at each side, and below, the dead wall is excavated by two deep niches. It has undergone changes for improvements, but it still resembles rather the strong-hold of a military station, than the great entrance to the most extensive and gorgeous palace in the world; yet it is from hence the sultans of the East for centuries dictated to the sovereigns of Europe, and issued the mandates of the “high door” from the city, or of “the imperial stirrup” from the field.

Much of the brutal and bloody barbarism which the Osmanli brought with them into Europe, is still displayed in their most characteristic manner at this imperial gate. Here it is that noses and ears are exhibited as trophies of victory, like Indian scalps. In the year 1822, the conqueror of Patrass sent many sacks of those trophies; they were shaken out before the Babu Humayun, and formed two large piles of various mutilated portions of the human countenance; and through these ghastly and festering heaps of his subjects’ flesh, the sultan and his officers passed every day, till they rotted and dissolved away. In the niches, the heads of deposed Turkish officers were exposed; and the ambassadors of European sovereigns proceeding to an audience, saw them kicked about in sport and derision, and were threatened themselves with being pelted with human sculls. Within the gate, the heads of pashas of rank, Halet Effendi, Ali Pasha, and other great delinquents, were allowed the indulgence of silver dishes to support them, and were daily exposed to the multitude, like that of John the Baptist, in a charger.

THE CASTLE OF SMYRNA

T. Allom. W. J. Cooke.

Ascending from the alluvial and marshy soil below, are seen various ruins indicating the more healthy and elevated site of the ancient city. Crowning the summit of Mount Pagus, are what remains of the Acropolis, consisting of ramparts and embattled walls, flanked by numerous towers, some of which are square, and some circular. These walls enclose a very extensive area of many acres, which seem never to have been built on, or filled with any kind of edifices. It was a clear space, on which the garrison defending the town pitched their tents as on a field of battle, so that the whole formed a strong walled camp.—Here are still seen the remains of a temple, and the cistern that conveyed water. Here it was the knights of Rhodes took their stand, when they defended the Christian city against the infidel invasions. It was dilapidated by Tamerlane and his Tartars, who brought down the stones from the hill, and threw them into the harbour, in order at once to destroy both the security and commercial prosperity of this great emporium of the Oriental Christians. Over one of the gates is an inscription, implying that the walls were repaired by one of the Comneni, and his wife Helena. But the most interesting of sculptured remains, is a bust and head of marble, in good preservation, and highly finished. It represents a female with a profusion of long hair, which has given rise to various conjectures; some affirming it to be part of the statue of the empress Helena, who, with her husband, rebuilt the fortress. It seems, however, a better specimen than could be executed during the total decay of the arts of that period, and displays a boldness of design belonging to a more perfect age of Grecian skill. It is therefore with greater probability supposed to represent Smyrna, the heroic Amazon, who, according to Pliny, founded the city, and conferred on it her own name.

On the slope of the hill on one side, are the ruins of a stadium, or theatre. The stones were formerly removed to erect a khan, and displayed under the foundation of the walls, the cells where those wild beasts were confined, with which the early Christians were compelled to fight, as St. Paul, “after the manner of men,” at Ephesus. To this fate, St. Polycarp, the first Christian bishop, was condemned. He was the disciple of St. John, and appointed by him to superintend his church of Smyrna. He proceeded to Rome, at the age of one hundred and four, to confer with the Christians of that city about some subjects of controversy, which even then divided the infant church; and on his return he was, by the order of the emperor, thrown to the beasts of this theatre, and devoured, for the recreation of the assembled people of one of the most opulent and polished cities of the heathen world: some, however, say he was burned alive. The persecution of Christians has distinguished this church of the Apocalypse even in modern times. In the year 1770, after the defeat of the Turkish fleet, orders were given by the pasha to retaliate on the Greeks of Smyrna. Armed men were let loose on them at five o’clock on Sunday morning, who rushed into their houses, and the churches where they were assembled, and in five hours one thousand five hundred Greeks were sacrificed in cold blood. In the year 1822, similar cruelties were perpetrated. The massacre of Scio extended to Smyrna. For several days the Greeks were hunted out, and brought, as they were seized, to a spot below the ascent of the hill, as to a favourite place for immolation. Eight hundred were here murdered, and their putrid remains were left for a long time tainting the air, and spreading pestilence among their executioners.

In the front ground of our illustration is a bridge thrown over the mouth of the Meles, where it debouches into the harbour. Over it is constantly passing an uninterrupted current of caravans, bearing merchandise, indicating the immense commercial intercourse of the city. It is known, that eight hundred laden camels a day, cross the Meles at this one point. Beside the bridge, is a tree, noted as the instrument of the summary justice of the Turks. When a suspected delinquent is seized in the neighbourhood, he is dragged to it, and immediately hung up to one of the branches.

THE CITY OF MAGNESIA, AND MOUNT SIPYLUS

T. Allom. J. C. Bentley.

Two cities in Asia Minor of this name were known to, and recorded by the ancients: one at the base of a mountain, and called “Magnesia on Sipylus;” the other on the banks of a river, denominated “Magnesia on Mæander.”−The first is that given in illustration.

This city, though not hallowed by the notice of the sacred penman, or selected as a beacon on which the early light of Christianity was to shine, has yet many claims on the notice of a traveller. Mythology and history contribute to the interest it excites, nor is its name unconnected with the arts and sciences.−Here it was that Niobe lamented the loss of her children, and the effects of her grief still appear in her supposed transformation−here it was that Scipio defeated the Asiatic confederacy, and obtained the first permanent footing in Asia−and here it was that extraordinary substance was first discovered, whose properties and affinities have since become the wonder and guide of man in the trackless ocean.

The city of Magnesia was founded by Tantalus, whose fabled punishment renders his name so notorious in the world. The situation is striking; it stands near the foot of a lofty mountain, on the edge of a vast and fertile plain, and its site and soil resemble those of Brusa; but it wants those important advantages which the other enjoys. The ridges of Sipylus afford no perennial snows like those of Olympus, to refresh the inhabitants below; nor is there any solution of the frigid element, to ripple in copious currents through the streets, or meander through the fertile plain. Its site, however, is very beautiful. Above it rise in majestic grandeur the rugged and romantic precipices of a mountain once celebrated for its thunder and lightning, and which still seem to be the shattered and splintered effects of those electric storms; and below it, lies one of those vast and exuberant levels, which, in Asia Minor, are found at the base of its hill, endued with the capabilities of all the luxury of life. This majestic plain is eight or ten miles in breadth, and fifteen in length. Through the centre flows the river Hermus, which, like the Pactolus its tributary stream, abounds in auriferous sands, but, like the Nile, has the more valuable property of fertilizing its soil, and, by the deposit of its rich mud, producing golden harvests. This was so remarkable formerly, that medals in honour of the river were struck, representing its course; having on one side the branch of a fruit-tree, and on the other a cornucopiæ, emblematic of its abundant produce. The fate of Turkey has, however, now blasted it. The luxuriance of a wild vegetation covers its corn-fields, and its former crops are converted into groves of tamarisk; still it abounds in many indications of its former state. Gardens and vineyards cover extensive spaces, verdant pastures are filled with snow-white sheep, and the landscape is varied by herds of those sable goats peculiar to Anatolia, whose dark and silky coats contrast in so striking a manner with their woolly companions. The camel is nowhere more noble and majestic. The breed is here particularly attended to. They are seen gaily caparisoned, winding in long lines through the plains, laden with Oriental produce for exportation, to the mart of Smyrna, where the camel of Magnesia is particularly prized and admired.

The local attractions have rendered it in all ages the abode of a numerous community, and the selected residence of the great and the powerful. It was to Magnesia that Themistocles retired¹⁹ from the resentment of his fellow-citizens, when the Persian king afforded him a tranquil retreat, to close his turbulent life. It was here that Andronicus Palæologus sought repose, when he resigned the sceptre of the Greek empire, and was no longer able to contend with the growing power of the Osmanli. Here Turks as well as Christians sought a retreat. Kiorod, son of Bajazet, and Selim, son of Soliman, dwelt in Magnesia; and Murad, the father of the mighty Mahomet, the scourge of Christians, when he abdicated, betook himself to the solitude of this city, to seek that quiet which a throne denied him; and being again called to public life, he once more retired to this favourite abode.

The early history of this town is connected with interesting events, the records of which are still preserved in England. The noble bay of Smyrna being the great outlet for the produce of the fertile plains of Magnesia, a league was entered into by these free and polished cities, for mutual benefit and protection. The citizens of one were admitted to all the rights and immunities of the other; and the mutual alliance was ratified by erecting marble pillars in both cities, with the terms of the compact inscribed on them. One of these interesting documents has escaped the ravages of time and accident. The tremendous earthquake, in the reign of Tiberius, that prostrated thirteen noble cities in Asia, and with them Magnesia, respected this monument, and it is now preserved among the marbles which enrich the university of Oxford.

The citizens of Magnesia had been long celebrated for their skill in staining glass, and still retain some beautiful specimens. Travellers see with surprise, in the houses they enter, the floors covered with varied forms in vivid colours, and find them caused by “storied windows, richly dight,” through which the sun’s rays had passed. The glass here manufactured possesses a brightness and transparency of colours superior to those of Europe. It is thus that, while the arts have long fled from this barbarized region to the more polished people of the west, a beautiful one remained behind, the loss of which Europe long regretted.

Indications of the wonderful substance to which the city gave its name, is yet found in the mountain over the town. Pliny affirms that the appellation of magnet was derived from Magnes, the shepherd, who discovered it in mount Ida, by the iron attached to his crook; but Lucretius, the philosophic poet, and others, say it took its name from the place where it was first found.²⁰ Travellers in modern times endeavour to settle the question; they bring with them ship and pocket compasses, to ascertain the existence of the magnetic stone in this place. They find the needle pointing to different quarters, as the compass is moved from place to place, and at length losing its quality of being attracted altogether; a circumstance known to be the effect produced on magnetic needles, when brought near other bodies possessing the same property.

The conversion of Niobe, not into a fountain, but a rock, was an opinion so universally received by the ancients, that Pausanias affirms, he himself, in ascending the hill, saw the statue with his own eyes. This indurated memorial of the tear-dissolved mother, is yet to be seen as Pausanias saw it 2,000 years ago. On the side of the hill is the rude fragment of a rock, bearing a semblance to a human form, which a lively imagination may easily convert into a Niobe. The person represented, however, has been disputed; some have taken it for the colossal statue of Cybele, the tutelar deity of the place.

The face of the mountain, ascending from the city, presents the remains of very extensive fortifications, once occupied by soldiers of various nations, but at present in a state of entire dilapidation. Its cannon were removed to Smyrna, and now protect its ancient ally. A more modern edifice, surrounded by well-timbered woods, attracts more attention. This is the residence of the present Ayan, or proprietor of the soil, whose family has been long distinguished in this region. When the Osmanli made their first inroads on Christian possessions, they secured them, by establishing, as they advanced, a feudal system. They left the acquired territory under some military chief, who portioned it out among his Moslem followers, on the terms of military service when called upon. These were named Deré beys, or “Lords of the valleys;” and the rich plains of Asia Minor were divided among them. They were classed as Zaims or Timariots, according to the number of spahis or cavalry they were bound to supply; and were the only hereditary nobility in the Turkish empire−few in numbers, but the petty and brutal tyrants of their respective territories. To these, however, was one distinguished exception: the family of Cara Osman Oglou preserved a high character for many generations, and every traveller who visited Magnesia spoke of them as liberal and enlightened benefactors of the territory over which they presided. This nobility is now extinguished; the energetic Mahomet, in his reforms, reduced this small but tyrannic oligarchy to the general level, and united, and confined to his own person, the whole nobility of the empire. The last descendant of the Oglous was invited to the capital, where he now employs his time and revenues in mechanical pursuits. He is a cunning shipwright, and has built a man-of-war, to serve in the Turkish fleet.

The present population of the city is estimated at somewhat more than 30,000, of which 20,000 are Turks, and the remainder Jews and Christians. The former have twenty mosques, whose bristling minarets are seen in our illustration. There are three Greek and Armenian churches, and two synagogues. In the foreground is represented one of those Oriental wells, which from the earliest ages were “digged” in the East, and which now form a conspicuous object in every landscape. A long horizontal beam of wood is divided into two unequal lengths, and supported and turned on a perpendicular. On the short arm is placed a weight which counterpoises the longer and the bucket and cord attached, when it descends into the well, and is very easily raised by means of this lever. One of these machines is seen erected in every garden, and, as irrigation is constantly required in an arid soil, it is always in motion, and its dull and drowsy creaking is the sound incessantly heard by all travellers.

INNER COURT OF THE MOSQUE OF SULTAN OSMAN

T. Allom. J. B. Allen.

Mahomet III. was distinguished by vice and imbecility; but his reign was embellished by learned and upright men. Risman Ben Ac Hissar wrote a treatise on government for the use of his master, which, notwithstanding the excellent precepts contained in it, seems to have but little improved his weak and vicious sovereign. The treatise has come down to us, with many sage maxims. One was−“that it is the duty of a prince to govern with equity, for his own interest is concerned in it: justice is the support of the throne, and Allah requires that those persons only should be entrusted with power and dignity, who show themselves worthy of exercising them.” Another, more shrewd, declares that “a thousand friends are too few, and one enemy too many;” but the only injunction that seems to have had any weight with the heedless monarch was, that “he should not only honour and respect the Ulemah (men of the law,) but promote all his undertakings by securing the aid of their prayers, for they have the inheritance of the gifts of the Prophet.” Influenced by this advice, he determined on building a mosque, and adding another imperial Djami to the capital: in order to make it more splendid than that of any of his predecessors, he sent architects to collect the models of the Christian cathedrals in Europe, that his mosque might be constructed from the perfections of them all. This heterodox intention, however, was opposed by the Ulemah, who denounced it as a desecration of a temple dedicated to the Prophet; and while he hesitated in his architectural plans, and before he had matured the whole design, death overtook him, and he left his mosque unfinished.

It was reserved for Osman, or Ottoman, to complete it. His vizir died immensely rich, and, by the maxims of the Turkish empire, his wealth reverted to the sovereign. “The Sultan,” says the law, “never loses his inheritance to wealth, for, cast it upon the ocean, and let it sink to the bottom, it wall again rise to the surface, and become visible.” Enabled, it should appear, by this accession of means, he set about completing the unfinished mosque of his predecessor. This he effected, though his pious work did not propitiate Allah to alter his decrees with respect to his own fate; it was very miserable. He was seized by Daud, his rebellious vizir, and sent a prisoner to the Seven Towers; here, at the age of nineteen, in the prime of life, vigour of youth, and bloom of beauty, he was strangled, his features mutilated, and one of his ears cut off, and sent as a grateful present to his successor.

Notwithstanding the intentions of its first architect, the design of the mosque of Osman is purely Oriental; yet it has an elegant appearance. The approach is by an arcade, supported by a colonnade of light and lofty pillars, enclosing the court. The whole of the interior is covered by an expansive dome, without any visible support of columns. Our illustration represents the court with the congregation gathering for prayers, and some of them engaged in the usual preparations. Nothing can be more grave and solemn than these. The people seem impressed with their pious purpose before they enter the house of prayer. They divest themselves of their gayest apparel, because they suppose humility of appearance is required before God. As they approach, the groups appear to be more than usually serious and silent, as if meditating on what they were about to do. When arrived at the reservoir of water provided for ablution, they wash their face, hands, and feet, from a feeling that personal purity is indicative of purity of the mind. When ascending the steps leading to the entrance, they deposit their shoes, from a conviction that the place they are about to enter is holy ground; and before the gate they sometimes prostrate themselves in reverence to the tomb of the Prophet, whose relative direction and position is always designated in every mosque. Before the door is suspended a curtain, which it is necessary to push aside on entering, and it immediately falls back, to screen the congregation from profane eyes. The floor is generally covered with carpets, on which the people kneel, and then fall prostrate on their faces, resuming occasionally their erect position. During their prayer there is no turning of the head, no wandering of the eye, to mark any abstraction of thought, but every faculty both of mind and body seems wrapt and bound up in the solemn act they are performing. Travellers who have noticed this total engagement of the attention of a Turk when he supposes himself in the presence of his Maker, and contrasts it with the languid and careless inattention so often observed and complained of in our churches, have remarked, “that Christian men might take a lesson from men who were not Christians, in what manner they should worship their common God.”