254 SMYRNA DEPARTURE. visiting its rocky caverns. Here Homer is said to have lingered with much delight, and the picturesque beauty of the spot confirms the tradition. The second time was when I ascended the Mustasia mountain, and visited upon its heights the tomb dedicated to the memory of Polycarp. Tradition relates, that here, in the neighbourhood of the then existing city, the patriarch of 100 years died the death of a martyr; and much probability supports it. This mountain, at whose feet Smyrna lies, contributes much to the beauty of its appearance. Upon its heights still stand the considerable ruins of a fortress of the middle ages, which had been constructed upon ruins of a far more ancient foundation. Beneath these, and in the direction of the present city, there are still the distinct traces of the stadium, the theatre, and other structures of ancient Smyrna. But what especially adorns the declivity of the mountain is a Turkish cemetery, which, with its dense grove of cypresses, very earnestly and solemnly gazes over the throng of houses in the gay large city. But one word out of the many edifying facts I might relate of social life at Smyrna. The fair sex here do not maintain the eastern custom of veiling. In a walk through the animated streets, one might almost suppose the city was peopled only with women and maidens ; all sit at their door-ways engaged either in pleasing gossip, or singing some cheerful song ; many a beautiful black eye, of which there is no scarcity here, sends forth its dangerous glances. EXCURSION TO PATMOS BY WAY OF EPHESUS. I had fixed my trip to Patmos for the 11th of August, at two o'clock in the morning. The nearest way thither is half by land and half by water. The ruins of Ephesus lie upon this road; nothing could be more inviting. It was desirable to make the long distance from Smyrna to Scala Nuova in one day, to avoid the dangers incidentally arising from the malaria of the plain of Ephesus and the robbers infesting the vicinity: hence it was requisite to start very early, and continue the journey very late. Through the influence of the dragoman of the Sardinian consul, my companion in this journey, the governor of Smyrna had sent me an open letter of recommendation. He had also taken care to provide strong horses, whose owners, upon so distinguished a requisition, did not hesitate to make a demand of a hundred and fifty piastres for a single day. ROAD TO EPHESUS. 255 At two in the morning accordingly I was ready, but not before five did the horses come. This was that Oriental punctuality which has so often brought Frankish travellers, whose time is so valuable, not merely to impatience, but to despair. It was now impossible to reach our goal this day. I commissioned the dragoman to represent the circumstance in the strongest colours to the governor he will scarcely have let his protégé pass unpunished. The following morning exactly at two we were mounted, and rode with a turbulent noise through the slumbering Turkish city. In three quarters of an hour we reached the extreme guard-posts of the city. The guard received us with a doubtful look. Although we exhibited the pass of the governor, yet they hesitated to allow us to proceed. On account of the insecurity of the road, they advised us to wait till daybreak; but at last they allowed us to go forward, upon our own responsibility." 66 The insecurity of travelling is here, unfortunately, greater than in the Arabian desert. And who are the highwaymen ? Greeks, but especially Samiotes. Sad enough this for Greek as well as for Christian repute. Every two leagues we met with guard coffee-houses or guard-houses occupied by some soldiers; they always made a point of asking about the rencontres we had had on the road. How sad does it make us to traverse this part of the world, whose fertile plains are covered with nothing but lank grass in the rudest state! The golden fruits of culture are despised, and in lieu the bloody ones of highway robbery are resorted to. One might fancy that this land must have sadly sinned to have been visited with so heavy a curse. Our road was sometimes laborious: our guide made no judicious selection in diverging from the usual route of travellers. On one portion of the road we were obliged to thread cleft masses of rocks, and the oaks yielded so little shade that both horse and rider became fatigued. But the eye roamed cheerfully around to the magnificent hills above us, whose names re-echoed in such full tones from the great period of the ancient Greeks. The pilgrim from the far West beholds them now with melancholy; they tell him of many an ancient tale, many an old song they recal to mind; he listens as to a resonance from his own early youth. But to the sons of the country themselves they are strange and dumb: the child, the man, the old man, behold them; but they have no reminiscences, no heart, in common. Shortly after mid-day we quitted the mountains and saluted the extensive plain of the Kaystros. In the east it is bounded by the Pactolus, in the north by the Gallesus; the Prion and the Coryssus in the south extend towards the west, whither the stream also which has been made celebrated by its swans rolls its reed-engirdled wavelets to the sea. At the foot of Prion and Coryssus lie the 256 THE KAYSTROS EPHESUS. ruins of that city whose reminiscences with their rich images oscillate between God and idols. Midway between the north and the south of the plain rises a lofty hill, the round summit of which for merly bore the Acropolis, and even still commands with its deserted fortress the ruins of Ephesus. We rode through the broad plain to a ford of the Kaystros. On our left, an encampment of Turcomans in black tents was spread forth. This people of nomadic shepherds, who believe but little and know much less, are reputed to be very numerous in this neighbourhood, as well as in northern Syria. Camels and flocks of sheep and goats pastured close to the tents; we rode up to the flocks; and, in consequence of the ignorance of our guide, took a shepherd with us who showed us the ford. But this ride through the Kaystros was more dangerous than the passage through the Red Sea, for the rapid stream reached to the very stirrups. Close to the foot of the hill which bears the fortress stands a deserted mosque, whose walls and cupolas, together with their minarets, have an imposing appearance at a distance. We rode direct to it. Dazzling marble steps on each side ascend to a porch rich in art. The court, formerly encompassed by a colonnade, retains still its marble basin in the centre; round about ancient trees stand thronged with luxuriant shrubs and grasses. The interior of the mosque has its floor and walls of marble; sentences from the koran, inscribed in golden letters, and beautiful mosaics still shine here and there, but above all the eye is attracted by four colossal red granite columns, which make an overpowering impression. That they might trace their origin to the wondrous structure of the former temple of Diana, I did not for an instant doubt. This temple, which still bears the crescent upon its cupola, once bore the cross as its highest ornament, and re-echoed with Christian bells and Christian hymns, for it was transformed into a mosque from a church which Justinian dedicated with royal liberality to the memory of St. John, who here found his grave after his protracted labours. I was now standing upon the ruins of the Church of St. John. From the ivy which springs from its marble pavement I tore off a leaf: it grew over the grave of St. John; thus to me it was a relic of the disciple who lay in the bosom of the Lord. (John xiii. 23.) The hill with its fortress, whose costly marble works, with reminiscences of Hector, of Patroclus, and of Achilles, were very recently transmitted to Europe, I left unvisited. Timur Tamerlane, when he bore his ensanguined and conquering sword to Ephesus, perhaps dwelt there, and cursed the very same reminiscence which I celebrated to-day. A stupendous aqueduct extends from the hill of the fortress to the east: many storks build their nests upon its insulated pillars. In its vicinity lies the present small village, Ajasaluck, which derives its name, it appears, from the "Holy Divine," whilst its houses are built of the marble fragments of Ephesus. But from the modern I passed to the ancient; I hastened across the plain to the declivity of Prion: there I stood in ancient Ephesus. It is indeed the majestic sepulchre of grandeur, pomp, and fame. Whether I stood upon the site of the ancient temple of Diana, I know not; but I believe I did. The rounded elevation of the surface, the remains of enormous walls and rich marbles, the position as regards the former harbour, for a commanding view of the shipping; all speak in favour of it. The altar, from the hands of Praxiteles, the pillars from the chisel of Scopas, the Alexander armed with the thunderbolt, from the pencil of Apelles, have indeed all long disappeared. Perhaps the earth still conceals many a treasure; for the destroying arm of the conqueror had spared the temple; and it was only by an earthquake that it was overwhelmed. But what a circle of spirits is convened by the imagination of the pilgrim who stands upon these ruins! Cræsus's gold helped to construct "the wonder of the world;" Xerxes saw it, and spared it. Themistocles paraded its halls, with eternal fame twined around his brow, and the wound of ingratitude in his heart. Alexander came hither, one god to the other;" Lucullus celebrated here his victory over Mithridates; Antonius marched into the ivy-crowned city. And speedily all past festivals were surpassed by one that ever endured. To the first Evangelos a second succeeded*; the first brought the glittering stone; the second the bread of Heaven. It is true that the mob then the more loudly lauded the brazen goddess (Acts xix. 23-41); but the Gospel which St. Paul brought founded, in addition to the marble temple of Diana, imperishable holy houses in many a jubilant heart. Upon quitting the ruins, the thoughts of St. Paul still long clung to me. How could I have bid farewell to Ephesus without thinking of the farewell which St. Paul took of the Ephesians? "Bound in the spirit," he went hence to Jerusalem. (Acts xx. 17-38.) He there again reminded his beloved community of his anxieties and his tears. That wolves would enter the flock he well knew. But his words have been more sadly fulfilled than he himself expected. With what an eye and with what a heart would St. Paul now stand upon the ruins of Ephesus! The sun set: we were still several leagues distant from the termi * The shepherd Pyxodorus was called “Evangelos" when he discovered marble on the Prion. S 258 ARRIVAL AT PATMOS. nation of the day's journey. Fortunately I had recovered from the painful indisposition which the malaria of Ephesus had made me pay for ten minutes' slumber. The way still lay over a precipitous mountain path, and the moon denied its light. But at last, about nine in the evening, we saw the lights of Scala Nuova shining over the sea. I was heartily glad, but perhaps too fatigued to be able heartily to rejoice. I had besides a disagreeable surprise; the French consul, to whom I had been especially recommended, was absent. I went thence to the Russo-Anglo-Greek consul Alexachi, to whom I also bore a letter of introduction; his amiable and kind reception has made me much indebted to him. The following morning at nine, through the agency of the consul, an excellent kayik was ready to convey me and my dragoman across the Egean sea to Patmos. As it was provided with only four rowers, we could not calculate upon a very rapid passage, without a favourable wind. When we had got half way across between the main and Samos in the open sea, we were propelled by so fresh a breeze that there was no occasion for the rowers. We were at present free from the dangers this passage has in winter, but we were not so safe from pirates. The Samiotes, the very same who render the land journey between Smyrna and Scala Nuova insecure, practise also the noble craft of piracy. These are the modern countrymen of Pythagoras! In these waters a French corvette, consequently, was cruising, which only a few days before had been lying at anchor off Patmos. Our own vessel conveyed more arms than its collective occupants could have wielded. But we ran into the barbour of Patmos between three and four of the morning perfectly unmolested. I could not forbear instantly casting a glance at the island to which my thoughts had been so long attached. My soul was moved. The little island lay mute before me, in the light of the morning dawn. From its foot to its summit it is covered with groups of houses of light-grey stone; a few olives here and there interrupt the desert monotony of the island mountain. The sea was as still as the grave; Patmos lay like the dead body of a saint within it. We lay for two hours in the haven, before the officials of the board of health received our pass and permitted us to land. We immediately ascended the precipitous height to the city properly so-called, without stopping at all in the harbour town. In three quarters of an hour we stood before the house of Signor Kaligas, a distinguished Patignote, to whom we had an introduction. A black-eyed maiden, whose long and splendid tresses the early morning rendered quite lustrous, received us: it was the sister of the lady of the house. Shortly came the handsome young couple themselves, who had only within the last few days again seen each other after a |