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Title: The Earth and its inhabitants, Volume 1: Europe.

Author: Elisée Reclus

Editor: Ernest Georg Ravenstein

Release date: May 22, 2017 [eBook #54760]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EARTH
AND ITS INHABITANTS, VOLUME 1: EUROPE. ***

T HE
E ART H AND I T S I NHABI TANT S .
EUROPE.
BY
ÉLISÉE RECLUS.

EDITED BY

E. G. RAVENSTEIN, F.R.G.S., F.S.S., E TC.

VOL. I.
GREECE, TURKEY IN EUROPE, RU­MA­NIA, SER­VIA,
MON­TE­NEG­RO, IT­A­LY, SPAIN, AND POR­TU­GAL.

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS AND MAPS.

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET.

1883.

CONT E NT S .

Introductory Remarks . . . 1
EUROPE.
I. Geographical Importance . . . 5
II. Extent and Boundaries . . . 6
III. Natural Divisions and Mountains . . . 9
IV. The Maritime Regions . . . 13
V. Climate . . . 16
VI. Inhabitants . . . 18
THE MEDITERRANEAN.
I. Hydrology . . . 23
II. Animal Life, Fisheries, and Salt-pans . . . 28
III. Commerce and Navigation . . . 31
GREECE.
I. General Aspects . . . 36
II. Continental Greece . . . 45
III. The Morea, or Peloponnesus . . . 56
IV. The Islands of the Ægean Sea . . . 69
V. The Ionian Isles . . . 75
VI. The Present and Future of Greece . . . 80
VII. Government and Political Divisions . . . 85

TURKEY IN EUROPE.
I. General Aspects . . . 87
II. Crete and the Islands of the Archipelago . . . 90
III. Turkey of the Greeks (Thracia, Macedonia, and Thessaly) . . . 98
IV. Albania and Epirus . . . 115
V. The Illyrian Alps, Bosnia, and Herzegovina . . . 126
VI. Bulgaria . . . 131
VII. Present Position and Prospects of Turkey . . . 145
VIII. Government and Administration . . . 150
Treaties of San Stefano and Berlin . . . 153
RUMANIA . . . 155
SERVIA AND MONTENEGRO.
I. Servia . . . 172
II. Montenegro . . . 179
ITALY.
I. General Aspects . . . 183
II. The Basin of the Po: Piemont, Lombardy, Venetia, and Emilia . . . 189
III. Liguria and the Riviera of Genoa . . . 230
IV. Tuscany . . . 239
V. The Roman Apennines, the Valley of the Tiber, the Marches, and the
Abruzzos . . . 257
VI. Southern Italy: Naples . . . 286
VII. Sicily . . . 309
The Æolian or Liparic Islands . . . 331
The Ægadian Islands . . . 334
Malta and Gozzo . . . 335
VIII. Sardinia . . . 338
IX. The Present and Future of Italy . . . 352
X. Government and Administration . . . 358
CORSICA . . . 363
SPAIN.
I. General Aspects . . . 370
II. The Castiles, Leon, and Estremadura . . . 377
III. Andalusia . . . 394
IV. The Me­di­ter­ra­nean Slope: Murcia and Valencia . . . 414
V. The Balearic Islands . . . 423

VI. The Valley of the Ebro: Aragon and Catalonia . . . 427
VII. Basque Provinces, Navarra, and Logroño . . . 439
VIII. Santander, the Asturias, and Galicia . . . 448
IX. The Present and Future of Spain . . . 460
X. Government and Administration . . . 465
PORTUGAL.
I. General Aspects . . . 469
II. Northern Portugal: the Valleys of the Minho, Douro, and Mondego
. . . 473
III. The Valley of the Tagus . . . 482
IV. Southern Portugal: Alentejo and Algarve . . . 490
V. The Present and Future of Portugal . . . 496
VI. Government and Administration . . . 498
INDEX . . . 501

L I S T OF I L L US T RAT I ONS .

MAPS PRINTED IN COLOURS.
1. Ethnographical Map of Europe . . . 18
2. Turkey-in-Europe and Greece . . . 85
3. The Bosphorus and Constantinople . . . 98
4. Ethnographical Map of Turkey . . . 148
5. Italy . . . 183
6. The Delta of the Po . . . 210
7. The Bay of Naples . . . 288
8. Spain and Portugal . . . 365
PLATES.
01. Peasants from the Environs of Athens . . . To face page . . . 53
02. Constantinople and the Golden Horn, from the Heights of Eyub . . . 99
03. Albanians . . . 118
04. Wealthy Arnauts . . . 124
05. Turkish Muleteers in the Herzegovina . . . 127
06. Tirnova . . . 133
07. Bulgarians . . . 138
08. Mussulman of Adrianople, and Mussulman Lady of Prisrend . . . 147
09. Wallachians (Valakhs) . . . 162
10. Belgrade . . . 174

11. The Pennine Alps, as seen from the Becca di Nona (Pic Carrel), 10,380
feet . . . 195
12. Venice . . . 207
13. The Palace at Ferrara . . . 228
14. Verona . . . 229
15. Peasants of the Abruzzos . . . 258
16. Naples . . . 300
17. Capri, seen from Massa Lubrense . . . 302
18. Amalfi . . . 304
19. La Valetta, Malta . . . 337
20. Peasants of Toledo, Castile . . . 390
21. Roman Bridge at Alcántara . . . 391
22. Gorge de los Gaitanes, Defile of Guadalhorce . . . 399
23. Peasants of Córdova, Andalusia . . . 406
24. Gibraltar, as seen from the “Lines” . . . 414
25. Peasants of La Huerta, and Cigarrera of Valencia . . . 419
26. Women of Ibiza, Balearic Isles . . . 425
27. Monserrat, Catalonia . . . 431
28. Barcelona, seen from the Castle of Monjuich . . . 437
29. Gorges of Pancorbo . . . 440
30. Los Pasages . . . 447
31. Oporto . . . 478
32. Lisbon . . . 484
ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT.
EUROPE.
1. The Natural Boundary of Europe . . . 7
2. The Relief of Europe . . . 8
3. Development of Coast-lines relatively to Area . . . 14
4. The Isothermal Zone of Europe . . . 17
THE MEDITERRANEAN.
5. The Depth of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean . . . 24
6. The Strait of Gibraltar . . . 26
7. Principal Fisheries of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean . . . 30
8. Steamer Routes and Telegraphs . . . 34
GREECE.
9. M AINOTE AND S PARTAN . . . 42

10. Foreign Elements in the Population of Greece . . . 44
11. M OUNT P ARNASSUS AND D ELPHI . . . 46
12. Lower Acarnania . . . 49
13. Thermopylæ . . . 50
14. Lake Copais . . . 52
15. T HE A CROPOLIS OF A THENS . . . 54
16. Athens and its Long Walls . . . 55
17. Ancient Athens . . . 56
18. M OUNT T AYGETUS . . . 58
19. Lakes Phenea and Stymphalus . . . 60
20. The Plateau of Mantinea . . . 62
21. Bifurcation of the Gastuni . . . 63
22. The Valley of the Eurotas . . . 67
23. Euripus and Chalcis . . . 70
24. Nea Kaimeni . . . 72
25. C ORFU . . . 76
26. The Channel of Santa Maura . . . 77
27. Argostoli . . . 79
TURKEY IN EUROPE.
28. T HE G ORGE OF H AGIO R UMELI . . . 91
29. Crete, or Candia . . . 93
30. The Ægean Sea . . . 95
31. Geological Map of the Peninsula of Constantinople . . . 99
32. The Hellespont, or Dardanelles . . . 105
33. Mount Athos . . . 108
34. M OUNT O LYMPUS . . . 110
35. Mount Olympus and the Valley of Tempe . . . 111
36. Southern Epirus . . . 117
37. Subterranean Beds of the Affluents of the Narenta . . . 128
38. Mount Vitosh . . . 132
39. Delta of the Danube . . . 137
40. Comparative Discharge of the Mouths of the Danube . . . 138
41. Commercial Highways converging upon Constantinople . . . 150
42. The Turkish Empire . . . 151
RUMANIA.

43. The Rumanians . . . 156
44. The Rivers Shil and Olto . . . 158
45. The Danube and Yalomitza . . . 161
46. Ethnological Map of Moldavian Bessarabia . . . 164
47. B UCHAREST . . . 169
SERVIA AND MONTENEGRO.
48. Confluence of the Danube and Save . . . 174
49. Montenegro and the Lake of Skodra . . . 180
ITALY.
50. Rome and the Roman Empire . . . 186
51. M ONTE V ISO . . . 189
52. Grand Paradis . . . 191
53. Plain of Débris between the Alps and Apennines . . . 192
54. Slope of the Valley of the Po . . . 193
55. Mud Volcanoes of the Northern Apennines . . . 194
56. Ancient Glaciers of the Alps . . . 195
57. Serra of Ivrea and Ancient Glacier Lakes of the Dora . . . 196
58. Ancient Lakes of Verbano . . . 197
59. Lake Como . . . 198
60–62. Sections of Lake Como . . . 199
63. V ILLA S ERBELLONI . . . 201
64. Beech and Pine Woods of Ravenna . . . 203
65. Shingle Beds of the Tagliamento, &c. . . . 205
66. Old Bed of the Piave . . . 206
67. Lagoons of Venice . . . 207
68. Colonies of the Roman Veterans . . . 209
69. The Po between Piacenza and Cremona . . . 211
70. German Communes of Northern Italy . . . 216
71. M ONTE R OSA . . . 217
72. The Lagoons of Comacchio . . . 220
73. The Fisheries of Comacchio . . . 221
74. Mouth of the Adige Valley . . . 223
75. The Passages over the Alps . . . 224
76. The Lakes and Canals of Mantua . . . 227
77. Palmanova . . . 229

78. Junction of the Alps and Apennines . . . 231
79. Genoa and its Suburbs . . . 234
80. G ENOA . . . 235
81. The Gulf of Spezia . . . 237
82. T HE G OLFOLINO OF THE A RNO . . . 240
83. Defiles of the Arno . . . 241
84. Monte Argentaro . . . 243
85. Val di Chiana . . . 244
86. The Lake of Bientina . . . 245
87. The Malarial Regions . . . 247
88. F LORENCE . . . 252
89. The Harbour of Leghorn . . . 255
90. The Lake of Bolsena . . . 260
91. La Montagna d’Albano . . . 261
92. Ancient Lake of Fucino . . . 263
93. Lake of Trasimeno . . . 264
94. C AMPAGNA OF R OME . . . 265
95. Pontine Marshes . . . 267
96. Ancient Lakes of the Tiber and Topino . . . 269
97. C ASCADES OF T ERNI . . . 270
98. The Delta of the Tiber . . . 271
99. P EASANTS OF THE R OMAN C AMPAGNA . . . 272
100. R OME . . . 276
101. The Hills of Rome . . . 278
102. Civita Vecchia . . . 281
103. Valleys of Erosion on the Western Slope of the Apennines
. . . 283
104. Rimini and San Marino . . . 285
105. Monte Gargano . . . 287
106. Ashes of the Campania . . . 289
107. E RUPTION OF M OUNT V ESUVIUS . . . 292
108. Educational Map of Italy . . . 297
109. Pompeii . . . 301
110. The Marshes of Salpi . . . 305
111. Harbour of Brindisi in 1871 . . . 307
112. Harbour of Taranto . . . 308

113. Strait of Messina . . . 310
114. Profile of Mount Etna . . . 311
115. Lava Stream of Catania . . . 313
116. Subsidiary Cones of Mount Etna . . . 314
117. The Maccalubas and Girgenti . . . 317
118. P ALERMO AND M ONTE P ELLEGRINO . . . 324
119. Trapani and Marsala . . . 326
120. Syracuse . . . 328
121. T EMPLE OF C ONCORD AT G IRGENTI . . . 329
122. The Central Portion of the Æolian Islands . . . 332
123. The Me­di­ter­ra­nean to the South of Sicily . . . 334
124. The Port of Malta . . . 336
125. The Sea to the South of Sardinia . . . 339
126. Strait of Bonifacio . . . 340
127. La Giara . . . 345
128. District of Iglesias . . . 348
129. C AGLIARI . . . 350
130. Port of Terranova . . . 351
131. Navigation of Italy . . . 355
132. Commercial Routes of Italy . . . 356
133. Submarine Plateau between Corsica and Tuscany . . . 364
134. Profile of the Road from Ajaccio to Bastia . . . 365
135. B ASTIA . . . 368
SPAIN.
136. Table-lands of Iberian Peninsula . . . 371
137. Dehesas near Madrid . . . 375
138. Density of Population . . . 376
139. Profile of Railway from Bayonne to Cádiz . . . 379
140. Sierras de Grédos and de Gata . . . 380
141. D EFILE OF THE T AJO . . . 382
142. Steppes of New Castile . . . 384
143. Salamanca . . . 388
144. T HE A LCAZAR OF S EGOVIA . . . 389
145. T OLEDO . . . 390
146. Madrid and its Environs . . . 392

147. Aranjuez . . . 394
148. Basins of the Guadiana and Guadalquivir . . . 395
149. T HE P ASS OF D ESPEÑAPERROS . . . 396
150. T HE S IERRA N EVADA . . . 397
151. The Mouth of the Guadalquivir . . . 399
152. The Steppes of Ecija . . . 402
153. Zones of Vegetation on the Coast of Andalusia . . . 403
154. The Mines of Huelva . . . 406
155. T HE A LHAMBRA . . . 408
156. Cádiz and its Roadstead . . . 411
157. Gibraltar . . . 413
158. Steppes of Múrcia . . . 416
159. T HE P ALM G ROVE OF E LCHE . . . 418
160. The Palm Grove of Elche and the Huertas of Orihuela . . . 419
161. R UINS OF THE D YKE ABOVE L ORCA . . . 420
162. P EASANTS OF M URCIA . . . 421
163. The Harbour of Cartagena . . . 423
164. The Gráo de Valencia . . . 424
165. The Balearic Islands . . . 426
166. V IEW OF I BIZA . . . 427
167. The Pytiuses . . . 428
168. Port Mahon . . . 430
169. The Delta of the Ebro . . . 435
170. The Steppes of Aragon . . . 436
171. The Environs of Barcelona . . . 440
172. The Sand-banks of Mataró . . . 441
173. Andorra . . . 443
174. Jaizquibel . . . 445
175. Azcoitia and Azpeitia . . . 447
176. The Environs of Bilbao . . . 449
177. St. Sebastian . . . 450
178. S T. S EBASTIAN . . . 451
179. Guetaria . . . 452
180. Guernica . . . 453
181. Pass of Reinosa . . . 454
182. Peñas de Europa . . . 456

183. Rias of La Coruña and Ferrol . . . 458
184. Santoña and Santander . . . 460
185. Oviedo and Gijon . . . 462
186. T OWER OF H ERCULES . . . 463
187. Ria de Vigo . . . 464
188. Railroads of the Iberian Peninsula . . . 465
189. Foreign Commerce of the Iberian Peninsula . . . 466
190. Diagram exhibiting the Extent of the Castilian Language . . . 467
PORTUGAL.
191. Rainfall of the Iberian Peninsula . . . 470
192. P ORTUGUESE T YPES (Peasants) . . . 472
193. The Valley of the Limia, or Lima . . . 475
194. Dunes of Avéiro . . . 476
195. Oporto and the Paiz do Vinho . . . 478
196. São João da Foz and the Mouth of the Dóuro . . . 480
197. C OIMBRA . . . 482
198. The Estuary of the Tejo (Tagus) . . . 483
199. Peniche and the Berlingas . . . 485
200. Mouth of the Tejo . . . 486
201. Zones of Vegetation in Portugal . . . 488
202. C ASTLE OF P ENHA DE C INTRA . . . 489
203. M ONASTERY OF THE K NIGHTS OF C HRIST AT T HOMAR . . . 491
204. Estuary of the Sado . . . 492
205. Serra de Monchique and Promontory of Sagres . . . 493
206. Geology of Algarve . . . 494
207. Faro and Tavira . . . 496
208. Geographical Extent of the Portuguese Language . . . 497
209. Telegraph from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro . . . 498

T HE E ART H AND I T S I NHABI TANT S .

I NT RODUCTORY RE M ARKS . *
UR earth is but as an atom in space, a star amongst stars. Yet,
to us who inhabit it, it is still without bounds, as it was in the
time of our barbarian ancestors. Nor can we foresee the period
when the whole of its surface will be known to us. We have
been taught by astronomers and geodesists that our planet is a
sphere flattened at the poles, and physical geographers and meteorologists
have applied their powers of inductive reasoning to establish theories on the
direction of the winds and ocean currents within the polar regions. But
hitherto no explorer has succeeded in reaching the extremities of our earth,
and no one can tell whether land or sea extends beyond those icy barriers
which have frustrated our most determined efforts. Thanks to the struggles
of indomitable seamen, the pride of our race, the area of the mysterious
regions around the north pole has been reduced to something like the
hundredth part of the earth’s surface, but in the south there still remains an
unknown region of such vast extent, that the moon, were she to drop upon
our planet, might disappear within it without coming into contact with any
part of the earth’s surface already known to us.

And the polar regions, which present so many natural obstacles to our
explorers, are not the only portions of the earth not yet known to men of
science. It may be humiliating to our pride as men, but we feel constrained
to admit that among the countries not yet known to us there are some,
accessible enough as far as natural obstacles are concerned, but closed
against us by our fellow-men ! There are peoples in this world, dwelling in
towns, obeying laws, and having customs comparatively polished, but who
choose to live in seclusion, and are as little known to us as if they were the
inhabitants of some other planet. Their frontiers are closed by war and its
horrors, by the practice of slavery, by religious {2} fanaticism, and even
commercial jealousy. We have heard of some of these peoples by vague
report, but there are others concerning whom we absolutely know nothing.
And thus it happens that in this age of steam, of the printing press, of
incessant and feverish activity, we still know nothing, or very little, of the
centre of Africa, of a portion of Australia, of the interior of that fine and no
doubt most fertile island of New Guinea, and of vast table-lands in the
centre of Asia. Nay, even the country which most men of learning love to
look upon as the cradle of our Aryan ancestors is known to us but very
imperfectly.
As regards most countries which have been visited by travellers, and
figure more or less correctly upon our maps, a great amount of further
research is required before our knowledge of their geography can be called
complete. Years will pass ere the erroneous and contradictory statements of
our explorers concerning them have been set right. A prodigious amount of
labour must be performed before their climate, their hydrography, their
plants and animals, can be thoroughly known to us. Minute and systematic
researches have to be conducted to elucidate the slow changes in the aspects
and physical phenomena of many countries. The greatest caution will have
to be exercised in distinguishing between changes due to the spontaneous
action of natural causes and those brought about by the hand of man. And
all this knowledge we must acquire before we can boast that we know the
earth, and all about it !

Nor is this all. By a natural bent of our mind, all our studies are carried
on with reference to Man as the centre of all things. A knowledge of our
planet is, therefore, imperfect as long as it is not joined to a knowledge of
the various races of man which inhabit it. The earth which man treads is but
imperfectly known, man himself even less so. The first origin of races is
shrouded in absolute darkness, and the most learned disagree with reference
to the descent, the amalgamation, the original seats, and migratory stages of
most peoples and tribes. What do men owe to their surroundings? What to
the original seats of their ancestors, to inborn instincts of race, to a blending
with alien races, or to influences and traditions brought to bear upon them
from beyond? We hardly know, and as yet only a few rays of light begin to
penetrate this darkness. Unfortunately our erroneous views on many of
these questions are not due solely to ignorance. Contending passions and
instinctive national hatreds too frequently obscure our judgment, and we see
man as he is not. The far-off savages assume the shape of dim phantoms,
and our near neighbours and rivals in the arts of civilisation appear
repulsive and deformed of feature. If we would see them as they really are,
we must get rid of all our prejudices, and of those feelings of contempt,
hatred, and passion which still set nation against nation. Our forefathers, in
their wisdom, said that the most difficult thing of all was to know one’s self.
Surely a comprehensive study of mankind is more difficult still.
We are thus not in a position at present to furnish a complete account of
the earth and its inhabitants. The accomplishment of this task we must leave
to the future, when fellow-workers from all quarters of the globe will meet
to write the grand book embodying the sum of human knowledge. For the
present an {3} individual author must rest content with giving a succinct
account of the Earth, in which the space occupied by each country shall be
proportionate to its importance, and to the knowledge we possess with
respect to it.
It is natural, perhaps, that each nation should imagine that in such a
description it ought to be accorded the foremost place. Every barbarous
tribe, however small, imagines itself to occupy the very centre of the earth,
and to be the most perfect representative of the human race. Its language

never fails to bear witness to this naïve illusion, born of the very
narrowness of its horizon. The river which irrigates its fields is called the
“Father of Waters,” the mountain which shelters its camp the “Navel,” or
“Centre of the Earth;” and the names by which primitive races designate
their neighbours are terms of contempt, for they look down upon them as
their inferiors. To them they are “mute,” “deaf,” “unclean,” “imbecile,”
“monstrous,” or “demoniac.” The Chinese, one of the most remarkable
peoples in some respects, and certainly the most important of all as far as
mere numbers go, are not content with having bestowed upon their country
the epithet of “Flower of the Centre,” but are so fully convinced of its
superiority as to have fallen into the mistake (very excusable under the
circumstances) of deeming themselves to be the “Sons of Heaven.” As to
the nations thinly scattered around the borders of their “Celestial Empire,”
they know them merely as “dogs,” “swine,” “demons,” and “savages.” Or,
more disdainful still, they designate them by the four cardinal points of the
compass, and speak of the “unclean” tribes of the west, the north, the east,
and the south.
If in our description of the Earth we accord the first place to civilised
Europe, it is not because of a prejudice similar to that of the Chinese. No !
this place belongs to Europe as a matter of right. Europe as yet is the only
continent the whole of whose surface has been scien­tif­i­cally explored. It
possesses a map ap­prox­i­mate­ly cor­rect, and its material resources are
almost fully known to us. Its population is not as dense as that of India or of
China, but it nevertheless contains about one-fourth of the total population
of the globe; and its inhabitants, whatever their failings and vices, or their
state of barbarism in some respects, still impel the rest of mankind as
regards material and mental progress. Europe, for twenty-five centuries, has
been the focus whence radiated Arts, Sciences, and Thought. Nor have
those hardy colonists who carried their European languages and customs
beyond the sea succeeded hitherto in giving to the New World an
importance equal to that of “little” Europe, in spite of the virgin soil and
vast area which gave them scope for unlimited expansion.

Our American rivals may be more active and enterprising than we are—
they certainly are not cumbered to the same extent by the traditions and
inheritances of feudal times—but they are as yet not sufficiently numerous
to compete with us as regards the totality of work done. They have scarcely
been able hitherto to ascertain the material resources of the country in
which they have made their home. “Old Europe,” where every clod of earth
has its history, where every man is the heir of a hundred successive
generations, therefore still maintains the first place, and a comparative
study of nations justifies us in the belief that its moral {4} ascendancy and
industrial preponderance will remain with it for many years to come. At the
same time, we must not shut our eyes to the fact that equality will obtain in
the end, not only between America and Europe, but also between these two
and the other quarters of the world. The intermingling of nations,
migrations which have assumed prodigious proportions, and the increasing
facilities of intercourse must in the end lead to an equilibrium of population
being established throughout the world. Then will each country add its
proper share to the wealth of mankind, and what we call civilisation will
have “its centre everywhere, its periphery nowhere.”
The central geographical position of Europe has undoubtedly exercised a
most favourable influence upon the progress of the nations inhabiting it.
The superiority of the Europeans is certainly not due to the inherent virtues
of the races from which they sprang, as is vainly imagined by some, for in
other parts of the ancient world these same races have exhibited far less
creative genius. To the happy conditions of soil, climate, configuration, and
geographical position the inhabitants of Europe owe the honour of having
been the first to obtain a knowledge of the earth in its entirety, and to have
remained for so long a period at the head of mankind. Historical
geographers are, therefore, right when they insist upon the influence which
the configuration of a country exercises upon the nations who inhabit it.
The extent of table-lands, the heights of mountain ranges, the direction and
volume of rivers, the vicinity of the ocean, the indentation of the coast-line,
the temperature of the air, the abundance or rarity of rain, and the
correlations between soil, air, and water—all these are pregnant with

effects, and explain much of the character and mode of life of primitive
nations. They account for most of the contrasts existing between nations
subject to different conditions, and point out the natural highways of the
globe which nations are constrained to follow in their migrations or warlike
expeditions.
At the same time, we must bear in mind that the influence exercised upon
the history of mankind by the general configuration of land and sea, or any
special features of the former, is subject to change, and depends essentially
upon the stage of culture at which nations have arrived. Geography, strictly
speaking, confines itself to a description of the earth’s surface, and exhibits
the various nations in a passive attitude as it were, whilst Historical
Geography and statistics show man engaged in the struggle for existence,
and striving to obtain the mastery over his surroundings. A river, which to
an uncultured tribe would constitute an insurmountable barrier, becomes a
commercial high-road to a tribe further advanced in culture, and in process
of time it may be converted into a mere canal of irrigation, the course of
which is regulated by man. A mountain range frequented by shepherds and
huntsmen, and forming a barrier between nations, may attract, in a more
civilised epoch, the miner and the manufacturer, and in course of time will
even cease to be an obstacle, as roads will traverse it in all directions. Many
a creek of the sea, which afforded shelter of yore to the small vessels of our
ancestors, is deserted now, whilst the open bays, which vessels dreaded
formerly, have been protected by enormous breakwaters, and have become
the resort of our largest ships. {5a}
Innumerable changes such as these have been effected by man in all parts
of the world, and they have revolutionised the correlations existing between
man and the land he lives in. The configuration and height of mountains and
table-lands, the indentation of the coasts, the disposition of islands and
archipelagos, and the extent of the ocean—these all lose their relative
influence upon the history of nations in proportion as the latter emancipate
themselves and become free agents. Though subject to the condition of his
dwelling-place, man may modify it to suit his own purpose; he may
overcome nature as it were, and convert the energies of the earth into

domesticated forces. As an instance we may point to the elevated table-
lands of Central Asia, which now separate the countries and peninsulas
surrounding them, but which, when they shall have become the seats of
human industry, will convert Asia into a real geographical unit, which at
present it is only in appearance. Massy and ponderous Africa, monotonous
Australia, and Southern America with its forests and waterfalls, will be put
on something like an equality with Europe, whenever roads of commerce
shall cross them in all directions, bridging their rivers, and traversing their
deserts and mountain ranges. The advantages, on the other hand, which
Europe derives from its backbone of mountains, its radiating rivers, the
contours of its coasts, and its generally well-balanced outline are not as
great now as they were when man was dependent exclusively upon the
resources furnished by nature.
This gradual change in the historical importance of the configuration of
the land is a fact of capital importance which must be borne in mind if we
would understand the general geography of Europe. In studying SPACE we
must take account of another element of equal value—TIME.

E UROP E .

I.—G EOGRAPHICAL I MPORTANCE.
N the geography of the world the first place is claimed for
Europe, not because of a prejudice like that of the Chinese,
but as a matter of right. Europe as yet is the only continent
the whole of whose surface has been scien­tif­i­cal­ly ex­plored.
It pos­ses­ses a map ap­prox­i­mate­ly correct, and its material
resources are almost fully known to us. Its population is not as dense as that
of India or of China, but it nevertheless contains about one-fourth of the
total population of the globe; and its inhabitants, whatever their failings and
vices, or their state of barbarism in some respects, still impel the rest of
mankind as regards material and mental progress. Europe, for twenty-five
centuries, has been the focus whence radiated Arts, Sciences, and Thought.
Nor have those hardy colonists who carried their European languages and
customs beyond the sea succeeded hitherto in giving to the New World an
importance equal to that of “little” Europe, in spite of the virgin soil and
vast area which gave them scope for unlimited expansion.
“Old Europe,” where every clod of earth has its history, where every man
is the heir of a hundred successive generations, therefore still maintains the

first place, and a comparative study of nations justifies us in the belief that
its moral ascendancy and industrial preponderance will remain with it for
many years to come. At the same time, we must not shut our eyes to the fact
that equality will obtain in the end, not only between America and Europe,
but also between these two and the other quarters of the world. The
intermingling of nations, migrations which have assumed prodigious
proportions, and the increasing facilities of intercourse, must in the end lead
to an equilibrium of population throughout the world. Then will each
country add its proper share to the wealth of mankind, and what we call
civilisation will have “its centre everywhere, its periphery nowhere.”
The central geographical position of Europe has undoubtedly exercised a
most favourable influence upon the progress of the nations inhabiting it.
The superiority of the Europeans is certainly not due to the inherent virtues
of the races from which they sprang, as is vainly imagined by some, for in
other parts of {6} the ancient world these same races have exhibited far less
creative genius. To the happy conditions of soil, climate, configuration, and
geographical position, the inhabitants of Europe owe the honour of having
been the first to obtain a knowledge of the earth in its entirety, and to have
remained for so long a period at the head of mankind. Historical
geographers are, therefore, right when they insist upon the influence which
the configuration of a country exercises upon the nations who inhabit it.
The extent of table-lands, the heights of mountain ranges, the direction and
volume of rivers, the vicinity of the ocean, the indentation of the coast-line,
the temperature of the air, the abundance or rarity of rain, and the
correlations between soil, air, and water—all these are pregnant with
effects, and explain much of the character and mode of life of primitive
nations. They account for most of the contrasts existing between nations
subject to different conditions, and point out the natural highways of the
globe which nations are constrained to follow in their migrations or warlike
expeditions.

II.—E XTENT AND B OUNDARIES.
The dwellers on the eastern shores of the Med­i­ter­ra­nean Sea must have
learnt, in the course of their first warlike and commercial expeditions, to
distinguish between the great continents; for within the nucleus of the
ancient world Africa is attached to Asia by a narrow band of arid sand, and
Europe separated from Asia Minor by seas and channels difficult to
navigate on account of dangerous currents. The division of the known world
into three distinct parts could not fail to impress itself upon the minds of
those infant nations; and when the Greeks had attained a state of maturity,
and historical records took the place of myths and oral traditions, the name
of Europe had probably been transmitted through a long series of
generations. Herodotus naïvely admits that no mortal could ever hope to
find out the true meaning of this name, bequeathed to us by our forefathers;
but this has not deterred our modern men of learning from attempting to
explain it. Some amongst them consider that it was applied at first to Thrace
with its “large plains,” and subsequently extended to the whole of Europe;
others derive it from one of the surnames of Zeus with the “large eyes,” the
ancient god of the Sun, specially charged with the protection of the
continent. Some etymologists believe that Europe was designated thus by
the Phœnicians, as being the country of “white men.” We consider it,
however, to be far more probable that its name originally meant simply “the
West,” as contrasted with Asia, “the East,” or “country of the rising sun.” It
is thus that Italy first, and then Spain, bore the name of Hesperia; that
Western Africa received the name of El Maghreb from the Mo­ham­me­dans,
and the plains beyond the Mississippi became known in our own times as
the “Far West.”
But, whatever may be the original meaning of its name, Europe, in all the
myths of the ancients, is described as a Daughter of Asia. The Phœnicians
were the first to explore the shores of Europe, and to bring its inhabitants
into contact with those of the East. When the Daughter had become the
superior of her {7} Mother in civilisation, and Greek voyagers were
following up the explorations begun by the mariners of Tyre, all the known

countries to the north of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean were looked upon as
dependencies of Europe, and that name, which was originally confined to
the Thraco-Hellenic peninsula, was made to include, in course of time,
Italy, Spain, the countries of the Gauls, and the hyperborean regions beyond
the Alps and the Danube. Strabo, to whom were known already the most
varied and fruitful portions of Europe, extends it eastward as far as the
2
Palus Mæotis and the Tanais.

Fig. 1.—T HE N ATURAL B OUNDARY OF E UROPE.
Scale 1 : 21,800,000.

The zone of depression extending from the Black Sea to the Gulf of Μ
Obi is shaded. The darker shading to the north of the Caspian shows the area
depressed below the level of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean.

{8}
Since that epoch the limits between Europe and Asia have been shifted
by geographers still further to the east. They are, however, more or less
conventional, for Europe, though bounded on three sides by the ocean, is in
reality but a peninsula of Asia. At the same time, the contrasts between
these two parts of the world fully justify scientific men in dividing them

into two continental masses. But where is the true line of separation
between them? Map-makers generally adopt the political boundaries which
it has pleased the Russian Government to draw between its vast European
and Asiatic territories, and others adopt the summits of the Ural Mountains
and of the Caucasus as the boundary between the two continents; and
although, at the first glance, this delineation appears more reasonable than
the former, it is in reality no less absurd. The two slopes of a mountain
chain can never be assigned to different formations, and they are generally
inhabited by men of the same race. The true line of separation between
Europe and Asia does not consist of mountains at all, but, on the contrary,
of a series of depressions, in former times covered by a channel of the sea
which united the Me­di­ter­ra­nean with the Arctic Ocean. The steppes of the
Manych, between the Black Sea and the Caspian, and to the north of the
Caucasus, are still covered in part with salt swamps. The Caspian itself, as
well as Lake Aral and the other lakes which we meet with in the direction of
the Gulf of Obi, are the remains of this ancient arm of the sea, and the
intermediate regions still bear the traces of having been an ancient sea-bed.

Fig. 2.—T HE R ELIEF OF E UROPE. Μ
According to Houzeau, Berghaus, Kiepert, Olsen, and others.
Scale 1 : 60,000,000.

There can be no doubt that vast changes have taken place in the
configuration {9} of Europe, not only during more ancient geological
periods, but also within comparatively recent times. We have already seen
that a vast arm of the sea formerly separated Europe from Asia; it is equally
certain that there was a time when it was joined to Anatolia by an isthmus,
which has since been converted into the Bosphorus of Constantinople;
Spain was joined to Africa until the waters of the Atlantic invaded the Me­‐
di­ter­ra­nean; Sicily was probably connected with Mauritania; and the British
Islands once formed a portion of the mainland. The erosion of the sea, as
well as upheavals and subsidences of land, has effected, and still effect,
changes in the contours of our coasts. Numerous soundings in the seas
washing Western Europe have revealed the existence of a submarine
plateau, which, from a geological point of view, must be looked upon as
forming an integral portion of our continent. Bounded by abyssal depths of

thousands of fathoms, and submerged one hundred fathoms at most below
the waters of the ocean, this pedestal of France and the British Islands must
be looked upon as the foundation of an ancient continent, destroyed by the
incessant action of the waves. If the shallow portions of the ocean, as well
as those of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean Sea, were to be added to Europe, its area
would be increased to the extent of one-fourth, but it would lose, at the
same time, that wealth in peninsulas which has secured to Europe its
historical superiority over the other continents.
If we supposed Europe to subside to the extent of one hundred fathoms,
its area would be reduced to the compass of one-half. The ocean would
again cover her low plains, most of which are ancient sea-beds, and there
would remain above the waters merely a skeleton of plateaux and mountain
ranges, far more extensively indented by bays and fringed by peninsulas
than are the coasts existing at the present time. The whole of Western and
Southern Europe would be converted into a huge island, separated by a
wide arm of the sea from the plains of interior Russia. From an historical as
well as a geological point of view, this huge island is the true Europe.
Russia is not only half Asiatic on account of its extremes of temperature,
and the aspect of its monotonous plains and interminable steppes, but is
likewise intimately linked with Asia as regards its inhabitants and its
historical development. Russia can hardly be said to have belonged to
Europe for more than a hundred years. It was in maritime and mountainous
Europe, with its islands, peninsulas, and valleys, its varied features and
unexpected contrasts, that modern civilisation arose, the result of
innumerable local civilisations, happily united into a single current. And, as
the rivers descending from the mountains cover the plains at their foot with
fertile soil, so has the progress accomplished in this centre of enlightenment
gradually spread over the other continents to the very extremities of the
earth.

III.—N ATURAL D IVISIONS AND M OUNTAINS.
The Europe alluded to includes France, Germany, England, and the three
Me­di­ter­ra­nean peninsulas, and constitutes several natural divisions. The
British Islands form one of these. The Iberian peninsula is separated
scarcely less {10} distinctly from the remainder of Europe, for between it
and France rises a most formidable range of mountains, the most difficult to
cross in all Europe; and immediately to the north of it a depression,
nowhere exceeding a height of 650 feet, extends from the Me­di­ter­ra­nean to
the Atlantic Ocean. The geographical unity of Europe is represented to the
full extent only in the system of the Alps, and in the mountains of France,
Germany, Italy, and the Balkan peninsula which are connected with it. It is
there we must seek the framework of continental Europe.
The Alps, whose ancient Celtic name probably refers to the whiteness of
their snowy summits, stretch in an immense curve, more than 600 miles in
length, from the shores of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean to the plains of the Danube.
They consist in reality of more than thirty mountain masses, representing as
many geological groups, and joined to each other by elevated passes; but
their rocks, whether they be granite, slate, sandstone, or limestone, form
one continuous rampart rising above the plains. In former ages the Alps
were higher than they are now. This is proved by an examination of their
detritus and of the strata disintegrated by natural agencies. But, whatever
the extent of detrition, they still rise in hundreds of summits beyond the line
of perennial snow, and vast rivers of ice descend from them into every
upland valley. Looked at from the plains of Piedmont and Lombardy, these
glaciers and snow-fields present the appearance of sparkling diadems
encircling the mountain summits.
In the eastern portion of the Alpine system—that is to say, between the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean and Mont Blanc, the culminating point of Europe—the
average height of the mountain groups gradually increases from 6,500 to
more than 13,000 feet. To the east of Mont Blanc the Alps change in
direction, and, beyond the vast citadels represented by Monte Rosa and the
Bernese Oberland, they gradually decrease in height. To the east of

Switzerland no summit exceeds a height of 13,000 feet, but this loss in
elevation is fully made up by increase of breadth. And whilst the general
direction of the principal axis of the Alps remains north-easterly, very
considerable mountain chains, far exceeding the central mass in breadth, are
thrown off towards the north, the east, and the south-east. A line drawn
across the true Alps from Vienna has a length of no less than 250 miles.
In thus spreading out, the Alps lose their character and aspect. We no
longer meet with grand mountain masses, glaciers, and snow-fields.
Towards the north they gradually sink down into the valley of the Danube;
towards the south they branch out into secondary chains, resting upon the
arched plateau of Turkey. But, in spite of the vast contrasts offered by the
true Alps and the mountains of Montenegro, the Hæmus, the Rhodope, and
the Pindus, all these mountain chains nevertheless belong to the same
orographical system. The whole of the Balkan peninsula must be looked
upon as a natural dependency of the Alps; and the same applies to Italy, for
the chain of the Apennines is nothing but a continuation of the Maritime
Alps, and we hardly know where to draw the line of separation between
them. The Carpathians, too, must be included among the {11} mountain
chains forming part of the system of the Alps. They have been gradually
separated from them through the continuous action of water, but there can
be no doubt that, in former times, the semicircle of mountains known as the
Little Carpathians, the Beskids, the Tatra, the Great Carpathians, and the
Transylvanian Alps was joined, on the one hand, to the Austrian Alps, and
on the other to spurs descending from the Balkan. The Danube has forced
its way through these mountain ramparts, but the passages, or “gates,” are
narrow; they are strewn with rocks, and commanded by what remains of the
ancient partition ranges.
The configuration of the Alps, and of the labyrinthine mountain ranges
branching off from them towards the east, could not fail to exercise a most
powerful influence upon the history of Europe and of the entire world. The
only high-roads known to barbarians are those traced out by nature herself,
and they were consequently able to penetrate into Europe only by sea, or
through the vast plains of the north. Having penetrated to the westward of

the Black Sea, their progress was first stopped by the lakes and difficult
swamps of the Danubian valley; and, when they had surmounted these
obstacles, they found themselves face to face with a barrier of high
mountains, whose intricate wooded valleys and declivities led up to the
inaccessible regions of eternal snow. The Alps, the Balkan, and all the other
advanced chains of the Alpine system constituted an advanced defensive
barrier for Western Europe, and the conquering nomad tribes who threw
themselves against it did so at the risk of destruction. Accustomed to the
boundless horizon of the steppes, they did not venture to climb these steep
hills—they turned to the northward, where the vast plains of Germania
enabled successive swarms of immigrants to spread over the country with
greater ease. And as to the invaders, whom blind rage of conquest impelled
to engage in the defiles of these mountains, they found themselves caught
as in a trap; and this accounts for the variety of nations, and of fragments of
nations, whose presence has converted the countries of the Danube into a
sort of ethnological chaos. And as the débris carried along by the current is
deposited in the eddy of a river, so were these fragments of nearly every
nation of the East accumulated in motley disorder in this corner of the
Continent.
To the south of this great mountain barrier the migrations between
Europe and Asia could take place only by sea—a high-road open to those
nations alone who were sufficiently advanced in civilisation to have
acquired the art of building ships. Whether pirates, merchants, or warriors,
they had raised themselves long ago above a state of primitive barbarism,
and even their voyages of conquest added something to the stock of human
knowledge. Moreover, owing to the difficulties of navigation, they migrated
only in small bodies. At whatever point they settled they came into contact
with populations of a different race from their own, and this intercourse
gave birth to a number of local civilisations, each bearing its own stamp,
and nowhere did their influence preponderate. Every island of the
Archipelago, and every valley of ancient Hellas, differed from its
neighbours as regards social condition, dialect, and customs, but they all
remained Greek, in spite of the Phœnician and other influences to which

they had been subjected. It is thus owing to the {12} configuration of the
mountain chains and coast-lines that the civilisation which developed itself
gradually in the Me­di­ter­ra­nean countries to the south of the Alps was, upon
the whole, more spontaneous in its nature, and offered more variety and
greater contrasts, than the civilisation of the far less advanced nations of the
north, who were moving from place to place on vast plains.
The wide range of the Alps and of their advanced chains thus separated
two distinct worlds, in which historical development went on at a different
rate. At the same time, the separation between the two slopes of the Alpine
system was by no means complete. Nowhere in the Alps do we meet with
cold and uninhabited plateaux, as in the Andes and in Tibet, whose
enormous extent forms almost insurmountable barriers. The Alpine masses
are cut up everywhere into mountains and valleys, and the climate of the
latter is sufficiently mild to enable man to exist in them. The mountaineers,
who easily maintained their independence, owing to the protection extended
to them by nature, first served as intermediaries between the peoples
inhabiting the opposite lowlands. It was they who effected the rare
exchanges of produce which took place between the North and South, and
who opened the first commercial high-roads between the summits of the
mountains. The direction of the valleys and the deeply cut mountain passes
even then indicated the grand routes by which the Alps would be crossed, at
a future period, for the purposes of commerce or of war. That portion of the
Alps which lies between the mountain masses of Savoy and of the Me­di­ter­‐
ra­nean would naturally cease first to form an obstacle to military
expeditions. The Alps there are of great height, it is true, but they are
narrower than anywhere else; besides which, the climate on the two
opposite slopes is similar, and assimilates the mode of life and the customs
of the people dwelling there. Far more formidable, as a natural barrier, are
the Alps to the north-east of Mont Blanc, for they constitute a climatic
boundary.
The other mountain ranges play but a secondary or local part in the
history of Europe, when we compare them with the Alps. Still, the influence
which they have exercised upon the destiny of nations is no less evident.

The table-lands and snow-fields of the Scandinavian Alps form a wall of
separation between Norwegians and Swedes. The quadrangular mountain
fort of Bohemia, in the centre of Europe, which shelters the Chechians, is
almost entirely enclosed by Germans, and resembles an island fretted by the
waves of the ocean. The hills of Wales and of Scotland have afforded a
shelter to the Celtic race against the encroachments of Anglo-Saxons,
Danes, and Normans. The Bretons, in France, are indebted to their rocks
and landes for the fact of their not having yet become wholly French;
whilst the table-land of Limousin, the hills of Auvergne and the Cevennes
constitute the principal cause of the striking contrast which still exists
between the inhabitants of Northern and of Southern France. The Pyrenees,
next to the Alps, constitute the most formidable obstacle to the march of
nations in Europe; they would have remained an insurmountable rampart
down to our own time, were it not easy to pass round them by their
extremities abutting upon the sea. {13}

IV.—T HE M ARITIME R EGIONS.
The valleys which radiate in all directions from the great central masses of
the Alps are admirably adapted for imparting to almost the whole of Europe
a remarkable unity, whilst they offer, at the same time, an extreme variety of
aspects and of physical conditions. The Po, the Rhone, the Rhine, and the
Danube traverse countries having the most diverse climates, and yet they
have their sources in the same mountain region, and the fertilising alluvium
which they deposit in their valleys results from the disintegration of the
same rocks. Minor valleys cut up the slopes of the Alps and of their
dependent chains, and carry towards the sea the waters of the mountains
and the triturated fragments of their rocks. Running waters are visible,
wherever we cast our eyes. There are neither deserts, nor sterile plateaux,
nor inland lakes and river basins such as we meet with in Africa and Asia.
The rivers of Europe are not flooded as are those of certain portions of
South America, which deluge half the country with water. On the contrary,
in the scheme of her rivers Europe exhibits a certain degree of moderation
which has favoured the work of the settler, and facilitated the rise of a local
civilisation in each river basin. Moreover, although most rivers are
sufficiently large to have retarded migration, they are not sufficiently so to
have arrested it for any length of time. Even when roads and bridges did not
exist, barbarian immigrants easily made their way from the shores of the
Black Sea to those of the Atlantic.
But Europe, in addition to the advantages due to its framework of
mountains and the disposition of its river basins, enjoys the still greater
advantage of possessing an indented coast-line. It is mainly the contours of
its coasts which impart to Europe its double character of unity and diversity,
which distinguish it amongst continents. It is “one” because of its great
central mass, and “diversified” because of its numerous peninsulas and
dependent islands. It is an organism, if we may say so, resembling a huge
body furnished with limbs. Strabo compared Europe to a dragon. The
geographers of the period of the revival of letters compared it to a crowned
virgin, Spain being the head, France the heart, and England and Italy the

hands, holding the sceptre and the orb. Russia, at that time hardly known, is
made to do duty for the ample folds of the robe.
The area of Europe is only half that of South America, and one-third of
that of Africa, and yet the development of its coast-lines is superior to that
of the two continents taken together. In proportion to its area the coasts of
Europe have twice the extent of those of South America, Australia, and
Africa; and although they are to a small extent inferior to those of North
America, it must be borne in mind that the arctic coasts of the latter are ice-
bound during the greater portion of the year. A glance at the subjoined
diagrams will show that Europe, as compared with the two other continents
washed by the Arctic Ocean, enjoys the immense advantage of possessing a
coast-line almost wholly available for purposes of navigation, whilst a large
portion of the coasts of Asia and America is altogether useless to man. And
not only does the sea penetrate into the very heart of {14} temperate Europe,
cutting it up into elongated peninsulas, but these peninsulas, too, are fringed
with gulfs and miniature inland seas. The coasts of Greece, of Thessaly, and
of Thrace are thus indented by bays and gulfs, penetrating far into the land;
Italy and Spain likewise possess numerous bays and gulfs; and the
peninsulas of Northern Europe, Jutland and Scandinavia, are cut up by the
waters of the ocean into numerous secondary peninsulas.

Fig. 3.—D EVELOPMENT OF C OAST-LINES RELATIVELY TO A REA.

Europe. Asia. Africa. N. America. S. America. Australia.
Total area, square miles 4,005,100 17,308,400 11,542,400 9,376,850 6,803,570 3,450,130
Mainland area, square miles 3,758,300 15,966,000 11,293,930 7,973,700 6,731,470 2,934,500
Development of coast-line, miles 18,600 34,110 16,480 30,890 16,390 10,570
Accessible coasts 17,610 28,200 16,480 26,510 16,390 14,400
Ratio of the geometrical to the actual contour 1 : 2·5 1 : 2·5 1 : 1·4 1 : 3·1 1 : 1·8 1 : 1·7

The shaded circles represent the various continents; the outer circle represents the actual extent of
coast-line. The blank space between the two concentric circles represents graphically the difference
between the smallest possible or geometrical contour of a country having the area of the respective
continents, and the actual contour as exhibited in the existing coast-lines. Europe, being in reality
only a peninsula of Asia, hardly admits of this comparison.

The islands of Europe must be looked upon as dependencies of that
continent, for most of them are separated from it only by shallow seas.
Candia and the islands scattered broadcast over the Ægean Sea, the
Archipelagos of the Ionian Sea, and of Dalmatia, Sicily, Corsica and
Sardinia, Elba, and the Baleares, are in reality but prolongations, or

maritime out-stations, of neighbouring peninsulas. To the islands of Sealand
and Fyen, at the entrance to the Baltic, Denmark owes {15} most of her
commercial and political importance. Great Britain and Ireland, which
actually formed a portion of the European continent in a past age, cannot be
looked upon otherwise than as dependencies of it, although the isthmus
which once joined them has been destroyed by the waters of the ocean.
England has actually become the grand commercial emporium of Europe,
and plays now the same part in the world’s commerce that Greece once
played in that of the more restricted world of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean.
It is a remarkable fact that each of the European peninsulas should have
enjoyed in turn a period of commercial preponderance. Greece, the “most
noble individuality of the world of the ancients,” came first, and when at the
height of her power governed the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, which at that time meant
nearly the whole universe. During the Middle Ages Amalfi, Genoa, and
Venice became the commercial agents between Europe and the Indies. The
discovery of a passage round the Cape and of America diverted the world’s
commerce to Cadiz, Seville, and Lisbon, on the Iberian peninsula.
Subsequently the merchants of the small Dutch Republic seized a portion of
the heritage of Spain and Portugal, and the wealth of the entire world was
floated into the harbours of their sea-bound islands and peninsulas. In our
own days Great Britain, thanks to its favourable geographical position, in
the very centre of great continental masses, and the energy of its people, has
become the great mart of the world. London, the most populous city of the
world, is also the great centre of attraction for the treasures of mankind; but
there can be no doubt that sooner or later it will be supplanted, in
consequence of the opening of new commercial high-roads, and changes in
the political preponderance of nations. Perhaps some city of the United
States will take the place of London in a future age, and thus the American
belief in the westward march of civilisation will be verified; or we may
possibly return to the East, and convert Constantinople or Cairo into the
world’s emporium and centre of intercourse.
But, whatever may happen in the future, the great changes which have
taken place in the relative importance of the peninsulas and islands of

Europe in the short span of twenty centuries, sufficiently prove that
geographical features exercise a varying influence at different epochs. That
which at one time was looked upon as a great natural advantage may
become, in course of time, a serious disadvantage. Thus the numerous inlets
and gulfs enclosed by mountain chains, which favoured the rise of the cities
of Greece, and gave to Athens the dominion of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, now
constitute as many obstacles to their connection with the existing system of
European communications. That which in former times constituted the
strength of the country has become its weakness. In primitive times, before
man ventured upon the seas, these bays and gulfs formed insurmountable
obstacles to the migration of nations; at a later date, when the art of
navigation had been acquired, they became commercial high-roads, and
were favourable to the development of civilisation; and at the present time
they are again obstacles in the way of our road-builders and railway
engineers. {16}

V.—C LIMATE.
The influence exercised by the relief of the land and the configuration of the
coasts varies in different ages, but that of climate is permanent. In this
respect Europe is the most favoured region of the earth, for during a cycle
of unknown length it has enjoyed a climate at once the most temperate, the
most equable, and the most healthy of all continents.
Owing to the inland seas which penetrate far into the land, the whole of
Europe is exposed to the modifying influence of the ocean. With the
exception of Central Russia, no part of Europe is more than 400 miles from
the sea, and, as most of the mountains slope from the centre of the continent
towards its circumference, the influence of the sea breezes is felt
throughout. And thus continental Europe, in spite of its great extent, enjoys
the advantages of an insular climate throughout, the winds passing over the
ocean moderating the heat of summer and tempering the cold of winter.
The continuous north-easterly movement of the waters of the Atlantic
likewise has a favourable effect upon the climate of Europe. After having
been heated by a tropical sun in the Gulf of Mexico, the gulf-stream issues
through the Strait of Florida, and, spreading over the Atlantic, takes its
course towards the coasts of Europe. This enormous mass of warm water,
equal in volume to twenty million rivers as large as the Rhone, brings the
warmth of southern latitudes to the western and northern shores of Europe.
Its influence is felt not only in the maritime countries of Western Europe,
but to some extent as far as the Caspian and the Ural Mountains.
The currents of the air exercise as favourable an influence upon the
climate of Europe as do those of the ocean. The south-westerly winds
predominating on the coasts pass over the warm gulf-stream, and, on
reaching Europe, they part with the heat stored up by them between the
tropics. The north-westerly, northerly, and even north-easterly winds, which
blow during a portion of the year, are less cold than might be expected, for
they, too, have to cross the warm waters of the gulf-stream. And lastly, there
is the Sahara, which elevates the temperature of a portion of Europe.

The increase in temperature due to the combined influence of winds and
ocean currents amounts to 40° 50°, and even 60°, if we compare Europe
with other parts of the world lying under the same latitudes. Nowhere else,
not even on the western coast of North America, do the isothermals, or lines
of equal annual temperature, ascend so high towards the arctic regions. The
inhabitants of Europe, though they may live 900 to 1,200 miles farther
away from the equator, enjoy as mild a climate as do those of America, and
the decrease of temperature on going northward is far less rapid than in any
other part of the globe. This uniformity of temperature constitutes one of
the most characteristic features of Europe. The whole of it lies within the
temperate region bounded by the isothermal lines of 32° F. and 68° F.,
whilst in America and Asia that privileged zone has only half this extent.
{17}

Fig. 4.—T HE I SOTHERMAL Z ONE OF E UROPE. Μ
Scale 1 : 60,000,000.

This remarkable uniformity in the climate of Europe is exhibited not only
in its temperature, but likewise in the distribution of its rains. The seas
washing the shores of Europe supply all parts of it with the necessary
amount of moisture. There is no rainless district, nor, with the exception of
a portion of the maritime region of the Caspian and a small corner of Spain,
any district where droughts occasionally entail the entire loss of the harvest.
Rains fall not only regularly every year, but in most countries they occur in
every season, the only exception being the countries of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean,
where autumn and winter are the real rainy seasons. Moreover, in spite of
the great diversity in the physical features of Europe, the amount of rain is
scarcely anywhere excessive, whether it descends as a fine drizzle, as in
Ireland, or in heavy showers, as in Provence and on the southern slope of
the Alps. The annual rainfall scarcely ever exceeds thirty-nine inches,
except on the flanks of certain mountain ranges which arrest the passage of
currents charged with moisture. This uniformity and moderation in the
rainfall exercise a regulating influence upon the course of the rivers, for
even the smallest amongst them, at all events those to the north of the
Pyrenees, the Alps, and the Balkan, flow throughout the year. They rise and
fall generally within narrow limits, and inundations on a vast scale are as
rare as is want of water for purposes of irrigation. In consequence of this
regularity, Europe is able to derive a greater advantage from its waters than
other continents where the amount of precipitation is more considerable.
The Alps contribute much towards {18} maintaining a regular flow of the
rivers; the excess of humidity which falls to their share is stored up in the
shape of snow and ice, which descend slowly into the valleys, and melt
during the heat of summer. This happens just at a time when the rivers gain
least from rain, and lose most by evaporation, and some amongst them
would dry up if the ice of the mountains did not come to the aid of the
waters descending from the sky. It is thus that a sort of balance is
established in the economy of European rivers.
The climate of Europe is thus characterized by uniformity as a whole,
and by a compensatory action in its contrasts. Regularity and freedom from
excess, such as are not known in other continents, mark its ocean currents,

its winds, its temperature and rains, and the course of its rivers. These great
advantages have benefited its inhabitants in the past, and will not cease to
do so in the future. Though small in extent, Europe possesses by far the
largest area of acclimation. Man may migrate from Russia to Spain, or from
Ireland to Greece, without exposing himself to any great risk of life. The
inhabitants of the Caucasus and the Ural Mountains were thus able to cross
the plains and mountains of Europe, and to establish themselves on the
shores of the Atlantic. Soil and climate are equally propitious to man, and
enable him to preserve his physical and intellectual powers wherever he
goes. A migratory people might found new homesteads in any part of
Europe. Their companions of travel—the dog, the horse, and the ox—would
not desert them on the road, and the seed-corn which they carry with them
would yield a harvest wherever confided to the earth.

VI.—I NHABITANTS.
A study of the soil and a patient observation of climatic phenomena enable
us to appreciate the general influence exercised by the nature of the country
upon the development of its inhabitants; but it is more difficult to assign to
each race or nation its due share in the progress of European civilisation.
No doubt, in their struggles for existence, different groups of naked and
ignorant savages must have been acted upon differently, according to their
numbers and physical strength, their inborn intelligence, their tastes and
mental tendencies. But who were those primitive men who first turned to
account the natural resources of the country in which they dwelt? We know
not; for, if we go back for a few thousand years, every fact is shrouded in
darkness. We know nothing even as regards the origin of the leading nations
of Europe. Are we the “sons of the soil,” and the “shoots of oak-trees,” as
told in the poetical language of ancient tradition, or are we to look upon the
inhabitants of Asia as the ancestors to whom we are indebted for our
languages, and for the rudiments of our arts and sciences? Or did those
immigrants from a neighbouring continent settle down amongst an
indigenous population? Not many years ago the Asiatic origin of European
nations was accepted as an established fact, and the original seats of our
forefathers were pointed out upon the map of Asia. But now most men of
science are agreed to {19} seek our ancestors upon the very soil which we,
their descendants, still occupy. Caverns, the shores of oceans and lakes, and
the alluvial beds of our rivers have yielded the remains of human industry,
and even human skeletons, which clearly prove that long before these
supposed immigrations from Asia there existed in Europe tribes who had
already made some progress in human industry. Even in the childhood of
history there existed tribes who were looked upon as aborigines, and some
of their descendants—as, for instance, the Basks—have nothing in common
with the invaders from the neighbouring continent. Nor is it universally
admitted that the Aryans—that is, the ancestors of the Pelasgians, the
Greeks, the Latins, Celts, Germans, and Slavs—are of Asiatic origin.
Similarity of language may justify our belief in the common origin of the

Aryans of Europe, the Persians, and the Hindoos, but it does not prove that
their ancestral home should be looked for somewhere near the sources of
3
the Oxus. Many men of learning look upon the Aryans as aborigines of
Europe, but certainty on this point does not exist. No doubt, in prehistoric
times, intermigrations between the two continents were frequent; but we
hardly know what directions they took, and can speak with certainty only of
those migrations of peoples which are related by history. We thus know that
Europe sent forth to other continents Galatians, Macedonians, and Greeks,
and more recently innumerable emigrants of all nationalities, and received
in turn Huns, Avares, Turks, Mongols, Circassians, Jews, Armenians,
Moors, Berbers, and members of many other nations.
ETHNOGRAPHICAL MAP OF EUROPE Μ

Leaving out of consideration the smaller families of nations, as well as
the members of races who have not attained a national existence, Europe
may be described as consisting of three great ethnological divisions, the
principal boundary between which is formed by the Alps, the Carpathians,
and the Balkan.
The first of these great families of European nations, the members of
which speak Greco-Latin languages, occupies the southern slopes of the
Balkan and of the Alps, the Iberian peninsula, France, and a portion of
Belgium, as well as a few detached territories within the limits of the
ancient Roman empire, altogether surrounded by alien nations. Such are the
plains of the Lower Danube and a portion of Transylvania, which are
inhabited by the Rumanians, and a few secluded Alpine valleys inhabited
by “Romans.” On the other hand, fragments of two ancient nations have
maintained their ground in the midst of Latinised populations, viz. the
Celtic inhabitants of Brittany, and the Basks of the Pyrenees. Generally
speaking, however, all the inhabitants of South-western Europe, whether of
Celtic, Iberian, or Ligurian race, speak languages derived from the Latin,
and whatever differences existed originally between these various
populations, this community of language has more or less obliterated them.
The Teutonic nations form the second great group. They occupy nearly
the whole of Central Europe to the north of the Alps, and extend through
Holland and Flanders to within a short distance of the Straits of Dover.
Denmark and the great Scandinavian peninsula, as well as Iceland, belong
to the same group, and {20} the bulk of the inhabitants of the British Islands
are likewise generally included in it. The latter, however, should rather be
described as a mixed race, for the aboriginal Celtic population of these
islands, which now exists pure only in a few remote districts, has
amalgamated with Anglo-Saxon and Danish invaders, and the language of
the latter has become mixed with mediæval French, the resulting idiom
being almost as much Latin as Saxon. The development of national
characteristics has been favoured by the isolation in which the inhabitants
of the British Islands found themselves, and they differ essentially from

continental neighbours—the Scandinavians, Germans, and Celto-Latins—in
language and customs.
The Slavs, or Slavonians, form the third group of European nations. They
are less numerous than the Greco-Latins, but the territories they occupy are
far more extensive, for they spread over nearly the whole of Russia, over
Poland, a large portion of the Balkan peninsula, and about one-half of the
Austro-Hungarian monarchy. All the great plains to the east of the
Carpathians are inhabited by Slavs, either pure or mixed with Tartars and
Mongols. To the west and south of the mountains the race is split up into
numerous small nations, and in the valley of the Danube these come into
contact with Rumanians, as well as with Turks and Magyars, the two latter
being of Asiatic origin, and these separate the Slavonians of the north from
the Slavonians of the south. In the north, Finns, Livonians, and Lithuanians
4
interpose between the Slavonians and the Germanic nations.
Race and language, however, are not always identical. Members of one
race frequently speak the language of another, and race and linguistic
boundaries, therefore, differ frequently. As for the political boundaries, they
scarcely ever follow those natural features which would have been selected
had their settlement been intrusted to the spontaneous action of the different
nations. They hardly ever coincide with the boundaries of races or of
languages, except in the case of a few high mountain ranges or of arms of
the sea. On many occasions the countries of Europe were arbitrarily split up
in consequence of wars or diplomatic arrangements. A few peoples only,
protected by the nature of their country as well as {21} by their valour, have
maintained their independence since the age of great migrations, but many
more have been swept away by successive invasions. Many others, again,
have alternately seen their frontiers expand and contract more than once
even during a generation.
The so-called “balance of European powers,” founded as it is upon the
rights of war and ambitious rivalries between nations, is necessarily
unstable. Nations eminently fit to lead a common political existence are
torn asunder on the one side, whilst the most heterogeneous elements are
thrown together on the other. In these political arrangements the nations

themselves are never consulted, but their wishes and inclinations must
nevertheless prevail in the end, and the artificial edifice raised by warriors
and statesmen will come to the ground. A true “balance of power” will only
be established when every nation of the continent shall have become the
arbiter of its own destinies, when every pretended right of conquest shall
have been surrendered, and neighbouring nations shall be at liberty to
combine for the management of the affairs they have in common. Our
arbitrary political divisions, therefore, possess but a transitory value. They
cannot altogether be ignored; but in the following descriptions we shall, as
far as possible, adhere to the great natural divisions as defined by mountains
and valleys, and by the distribution of nations having the same origin and
speaking the same language. But even these natural boundaries lose their
importance in countries like Switzerland, inhabited by nations speaking
different languages, but held together by the strongest of all ties—the
common enjoyment of freedom.
From an historical point of view a description of Europe should
commence with the maritime countries of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. It was Greece
which gave birth to our European civilisation, and which at one time
occupied the centre of the known world. Her poets first sang the praises of
venturesome navigators, and her historians and philosophers collected and
classified the information received with respect to foreign countries. In a
subsequent age, Italy, in the very centre of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, took the
place of Greece, and for fifteen centuries maintained herself therein: Genoa,
Venice, and Florence succeeded Rome as the leaders of the civilised world.
During that period the surrounding nations gravitated towards the Me­di­ter­‐
ra­nean and Italy; and it was only when the Italians themselves enlarged the
terrestrial sphere by the discovery of a new world beyond the ocean that this
preponderance passed away from them, to remain for a short time with the
Iberian peninsula. Greece had been the mediator between Europe and the
ancient civilisations of Asia and Africa; Spain and Portugal became the
representatives of Europe in America and the extreme Orient; historical
development in its progress had followed the axis of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean
from east to west.

It will be found natural, under these circumstances, when we describe the
three Me­di­ter­ra­nean peninsulas in the same volume, particularly as they are
peopled almost exclusively by Greco-Latin nations. France, though likewise
Latinised, nevertheless occupies a distinct position. It is a Me­di­ter­ra­nean
country only as respects Provence and Languedoc, the rest of its territory
sloping towards the Atlantic. Its geographical position and history have
made France the great {22} European thoroughfare upon which the nations
of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean and of the Atlantic meet to exchange their products
and to fight their battles. Ideas are imported into France from all parts of
Europe, and she is called upon to act the part of an interpreter between the
nations of the North and of the South. Next to France we shall describe the
Germanic countries of Europe, the British Islands, and Scandinavia; and
lastly, the immense empire of Russia.

T HE M E DI T E RRANE AN.

I.—H YDROLOGY.
REECE and its insular satellites prove sufficiently that the
unstable floods of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean have exercised a greater
influence upon the march of history than did the solid land
upon which man trod. Western civilisation would never have
seen the light had not the waters of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean washed
the shores of Egypt, Phœnicia, Asia Minor, Hellas, Italy, Spain, and
Carthage. The western nations would have remained in their primitive
barbarism if it had not been for the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, which joined Europe,
Asia, and Africa; facilitated the intercourse between Aryans, Semites, and
Berbers; and rendered more equable the climate of the surrounding
countries, thus facilitating access to them. For ages it appeared almost as if
mankind could prosper only in the neighbourhood of this central sea, for
beyond its basin only decayed nations were to be met with, or tribes not yet
awakened to mental activity. “Like frogs around a swamp, so have we
settled down on the shores of this sea,” said Plato; and the sea he refers to is
the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. It is therefore deserving of description quite as much as

the inhabited countries which surround it. Unfortunately many mysteries
5
still remain hidden beneath its waves.

Fig. 5.—T HE D EPTH OF THE M EDITERRANEAN. Μ
From a Chart by M. Delesse.

From an examination of the coasts, as well as from the traditions of the
people inhabiting them, we learn that the Me­di­ter­ra­nean has varied
frequently in its contours and extent. The straits which connect its waters
with those of the ocean have frequently changed their position. At a time
when peninsulas like Greece, and even islands like Malta, formed part of
continental masses—and that they did so in a comparatively recent
geological epoch is proved by their fossil fauna—the waters of the Me­di­ter­‐
ra­nean covered large portions of Africa, of Southern Russia, and even of
Asia. The researches of Spratt, Fuchs, and others have satisfactorily proved
that towards the close of the miocene age a vast {24} fresh-water lake
stretched from the banks of the Aral, across Russia, the plains of the
Danube and the Archipelago, as far as Syracuse in Sicily. Then came the
briny waters of the ocean. There was a time when the Black Sea and the
Caspian connected the Archipelago with the Gulf of the Obi. At another
epoch the gulfs of the Syrtes penetrated far inland, and a large portion of

what is now the Libyan and Saharan desert was then covered with water.
The Strait of Gibraltar, which was torn asunder by Hercules according to
the traditions of the ancients, is in reality but of recent origin, and has taken
the place of a more ancient strait which joined the Me­di­ter­ra­nean to the Red
Sea and Indian Ocean: this strait has been restored by human hands, and is
known now as the Suez Canal. The coast-lines of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean are
undergoing perpetual change, owing to the upheaval or subsidence of the
countries surrounding it. The Nile, the Po, the Rhone, and other rivers
incessantly enlarge the alluvial plains at their mouths, and still further
encroach upon the sea. Actually the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, with its subordinate
seas from the Strait of Gibraltar to the Sea of Azof, covers an area about
thirty times that of the British Islands. This area is small if we compare it
with the immense development of the coasts and the wealth in peninsulas,
which impart an aspect of life and independence to at least one-third of the
ancient world. The Me­di­ter­ra­nean, though it takes precedence of all the
oceans, in consequence of the part it has played in history, nevertheless only
6
covers an area one-seventieth that of the Pacific. It is broken up, moreover,
into several separate seas, some of them so small in extent that the
navigator hardly ever loses sight of the land. In the {25} east we have the
Black Sea, with its two dependencies, the Seas of Azof and of Marmara.
The Ægean Sea, or Archipelago, with its numerous islands, extends
between the deeply indented coasts of Greece, Asia Minor, and Crete. The
Adriatic stretches towards the north-west, between the Balkan peninsula
and Italy; and the Me­di­ter­ra­nean proper is divided into two separate basins,
which might appropriately be called the Phœnician and Carthaginian Seas,
or the Greek and Roman Me­di­ter­ra­neans. Each of these basins is again
subdivided, the one by Crete, the other by the two islands of Sardinia and
Corsica. These various subdivisions of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean differ in area, and
still more in depth. The Sea of Azof almost deserves the name of “Swamp,”
which was bestowed upon it by the ancients, for if a ship sinks in it the
masts remain visible above the water. The Black Sea has a maximum depth
of over 1,000 fathoms, but the narrow strait which joins it to the Sea of
Marmara is shallower than many a European river. The cavity filled by the

Sea of Marmara is far inferior to that of many an inland lake; and the
Dardanelles, like the Bosphorus, are hardly wider than a river. In the
Archipelago and the eastern basin of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean proper the depth
corresponds with the protuberance of the land. Abyssal depths and “pits” of
260 and even of 540 fathoms are to be found in close proximity to the
scarped mountain islands of the Cyclades, whilst on the low coasts of Egypt
the water deepens only gradually, until in the centre of the Levantine Sea it
attains a depth of 1,750 fathoms. The maximum depth—2,170 fathoms—is
attained between Crete and Malta. If the whole of the waters of the Me­di­ter­‐
ra­nean were to be collected into an aqueous sphere, the latter would have a
diameter of 90 miles; if it fell down upon the earth, it would not even
wholly cover a country like Switzerland.
The Ionian Sea is separated from the Adriatic by a submarine ridge rising
in the Strait of Otranto, and bounded on the west by a shoal or submarine
isthmus, already referred to by Strabo, which joins Sicily to Tunis. This
isthmus forms the true geological boundary between the western and
eastern basins of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, which are connected here by a narrow
breach only, the depth of which hardly exceeds 100 fathoms. The western of
these basins is the smaller and shallower of the two, but nevertheless it
attains a depth of 1,100 fathoms in the Tyrrhenian, and of 1,360 fathoms
and even 1,640 in the Balearic Sea, and is separated from the waters of the
Atlantic by a submarine ridge lying outside the Strait of Gibraltar, and
7
joining Europe to Africa.
This subdivision of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean into separate basins, divided from
each other by shoals or submarine ridges, by islands and promontories,
sufficiently explains the contrasts between the phenomena of the open
ocean and those observed here. In the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, it is well known, the
tides are almost everywhere irregular and uncertain. To the east of the
Narrows of Gibraltar, in the sea extending between Andalusia and Morocco,
the tides are hardly felt at all, and {26} they are, moreover, interfered with to
such an extent by currents that it is exceedingly difficult to determine their
amplitude, or the establishment of the various ports. Nevertheless the rise
and fall of the tidal wave are sufficiently marked to have attracted the

attention of Greek and Italian navigators. On the coasts of Catalonia,
France, Liguria, Naples, Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt the oscillation is
hardly perceptible, but on those of Eastern Sicily and of the Adriatic the tide
sometimes rises three feet, and, if accompanied by storms, may even attain
a height of ten feet in certain localities. The Straits of Messina and of
Euripo (Eubœa) have their regular tides, and in the Gulf of Gabes the
waters rise and fall with the same regularity as in the open ocean. In the
Black Sea, however, no tidal movements whatever have been discovered
hitherto. It is nevertheless probable that more careful observations will lead
to the discovery of a feeble tide, for it is believed that this phenomenon
exists even on Lake Michigan, which has only one-fifth the area of the
Black Sea.

Fig. 6.—T HE S TRAIT OF G IBRALTAR. Μ
According to Robiquet, Randegger, and others. Scale 1 : 750,000.

The Me­di­ter­ra­nean differs not only from the open ocean with respect to
the feebleness and irregularity of its tides, but it is likewise without a great
stream-current keeping in constant circulation the whole body of its waters.
The currents which have been observed in various divisions of the Me­di­ter­‐
ra­nean can be ascribed only to local causes. An Italian geographer of the
last century, Montanari, has {27} advanced an hypothesis of a great circuit
current which entered the Me­di­ter­ra­nean through the Strait of Gibraltar,
and, after having washed the shores of Africa as far as Egypt, returned to
the west along those of Asia and Europe; but careful observers have vainly

endeavoured to discover its existence. They have met only with local
currents, produced by an indraught of the waters of the Atlantic, by winds,
by the floods of rivers, or by an excess of evaporation. One of these
currents sets along the coasts of Morocco and Algeria from west to east;
another flows along the Italian coast of the Adriatic from north to south; and
a third from the mouth of the Rhone in the direction of Cette and Port
Vendres. In fact, the configuration of the sea-bottom, and particularly the
shoal between Sicily and Tunis, precludes the existence of any but surface
currents in the Me­di­ter­ra­nean.
Amongst the local currents the existence of which has been most clearly
established are those which convey the waters of the Sea of Azof into the
Black Sea, and those of the latter into the Archipelago. The Don more than
makes up for the loss by evaporation in the Sea of Azof, and its surplus
waters find an exit through the Strait of Kerch into the Black Sea. Similarly
the waters of the Dniester, the Dnieper, the Rion, and of the rivers of Asia
Minor, and, above all, of the Danube, which by itself conveys a larger
volume of water into the Black Sea than all the others combined, are
discharged through the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles into the Archipelago.
On the other hand, the Archipelago returns to the Black Sea, by means of a
submarine counter-current and of lateral surface currents, a certain quantity
of salt water for the fresh water which it receives in excess. This exchange
accounts for the salineness of the waters of the Black Sea. The volume of
fresh water discharged into it by the Danube and other rivers is so large that
in the course of a thousand years its waters would become perfectly fresh, if
there did not exist these compensatory highly saline counter-currents.
Analogous phenomena take place at the other extremity of the Me­di­ter­ra­‐
nean. Evaporation there is excessive, owing to the neighbourhood of the
burning sands of the deserts, the winds from which blow freely over the sea,
absorbing the vapours and dispersing the clouds. The loss by evaporation
amounts to at least seven feet in the course of a year, and as the annual
rainfall is estimated to amount to twenty inches only, and the volume of
water discharged annually by all the tributary rivers of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, if
uniformly spread over its surface, would hardly exceed ten inches in depth,

there exists thus an excess of evaporation amounting annually to more than
four feet; and this excess has to be made good by an inflow of the waters of
the Atlantic, which takes place through the Strait of Gibraltar, whose
volume far exceeds that of the Amazon in a state of flood. This inflow of
the waters of the Atlantic is felt, as a current, as far as the coasts of Sicily,
and, like all other currents, it is bounded by lateral currents flowing in a
direction contrary to that of the main current. During ebb the insetting
Atlantic current takes up the whole of the strait, but when the tide rises the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean resists more successfully the pressure of the ocean, and this
struggle gives birth to {28} two counter-currents, one of which skirts the
coast of Europe, the other that of Africa between Ceuta and Cape Spartel;
the latter is the larger and more powerful of the two. In addition to these,
there exists a submarine current, which conveys the highly saline and
heavier waters of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean out into the Atlantic.
The quantity of salt held in solution in various parts of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean
differs widely, as the submarine ridges and shoals which divide it into
separate basins do not permit its waters to mingle as freely as in the open
ocean. Owing to the excess of evaporation, the quantity of salt is greater on
the whole than in the Atlantic, and this is the case more particularly on the
coast of Africa. But in the Black Sea it is far less, and near the mouths of
8
some of the large rivers which enter that sea the water is almost fresh.
The temperature of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean is affected by the same causes
which produce its varying salineness, viz. the existence of shoals and banks,
which separate it into distinct sub-basins. In the open ocean the currents
convey to all latitudes large bodies of water, some of them heated by a
tropical sun, others cooled by contact with the ice of the polar regions. But
these layers of unequal density are regularly superimposed one upon the
other, owing to the differences in their temperature: the warm water remains
on the surface, whilst the cold water descends to the bottom. In the Me­di­ter­‐
ra­nean an analogous superimposition exists only to a depth of 110 fathoms,
which is the depth of the Atlantic current, flowing into it through the Strait
of Gibraltar. If a thermometer be lowered to a greater depth it will indicate
no further decrease of temperature, and the immense body of water,

remaining almost still at the bottom of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, has an equable
temperature of about 56° F. Observations made at depths varying between
110 and 1,640 fathoms have always exhibited the same result. Professor
Carpenter believes, however, that the abyssal waters of some of the volcanic
regions have a somewhat higher temperature, which may be due to the
presence of lava in a state of fusion.

II.—A NIMAL L IFE. F ISHERIES AND S ALT P ANS.
Another remarkable feature of the abyssal waters of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean
consists in their poverty of animal life. No doubt there is some life; the
dredgings of the Porcupine and the telegraph cables, which, on being
brought to the surface, were found to be covered with shells and polypes,
prove this. But, compared with those of the ocean, the depths of the Me­di­‐
ter­ra­nean are veritable deserts. Edward Forbes, who explored the waters of
the Archipelago, arrived at the conclusion that their abyssal depths were
entirely devoid of life, but he was wrong when he assumed an exceptional
case like this to represent a universal law. Carpenter thinks that this absence
of life in the depths of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean is due to the great quantity of
organic remains which is carried into it by the rivers. These remains absorb
the oxygen of the water, and part with their carbonic acid, which is
detrimental to {29} animal life. In numerous instances the water of the Me­di­‐
ter­ra­nean contains only one-fourth the normal quantity of the former gas,
but fifty per cent. in excess of the latter. To the presence of these organic
remains the Me­di­ter­ra­nean is probably indebted for its beautiful azure
colour, so different from the black waters of most oceans. This blue, then,
which is justly celebrated by poets, would thus be caused by the impurity of
the water. M. Delesse has shown that the bottom of nearly the whole of the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean is covered with ooze.
The regions of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean immediately below the surface abound
in animal life, particularly on the coasts of Sicily and Southern Italy; but
nearly all species, whether fish, testacea, or others, are of Atlantic origin.
The Me­di­ter­ra­nean, in spite of its vast extent, as far as its fauna is
concerned, is nothing but a gulf of the Lusitanian Ocean. Its longitudinal
extension and the similarity of climate in its various portions have favoured
the migration of animals through the Strait of Gibraltar as far as the coasts
of Syria. At the same time, animal life is most varied near this point of
entry, and the species met with in the western basin are generally of greater
size than those which exist in the eastern. A very small proportion of non-
Atlantic species recalls the fact that the Me­di­ter­ra­nean formerly

communicated with the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean. But amongst a total
of more than eight hundred molluscs there are only about thirty which have
reached the seas of Greece and Sicily through the ancient straits separating
9
Africa from Asia, instead of through the Strait of Gibraltar. The diminution
in the number of species in an easterly direction becomes most striking
when we reach the narrow channel of the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus.
The Black Sea, in fact, differs essentially from the Me­di­ter­ra­nean proper as
regards temperature. It is refrigerated by north-easterly winds sweeping
over its surface, to the extent even of portions of it becoming now and then
covered with a thin coating of ice, adhering to the coast. The Sea of Azof
has frequently disappeared beneath a thick crust of ice, and even the whole
of the Black Sea has been frozen over in winters of exceptional severity.
The cold surface waters, together with those conveyed into the Black Sea
by large rivers, descend to the bottom, and prove most detrimental to animal
life. Echinodermata and zoophytes are not met with at all in the Black Sea;
certain classes of molluscs, already rare in the Levantine Sea and the
Archipelago, are likewise absent; and the total number of species of
molluscs is only one-tenth of what it is in the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. Fish are
numerous as far as individuals go, but their species are few. In fact, the
fauna of the Black Sea appears to resemble that of the Caspian, from which
it is cut off, rather than that of the Greek seas, with which the Sea of
Marmara connects it.
In addition to the species which have found a second home in the Me­di­‐
ter­ra­nean, there are some that must still be looked upon as visitors. Such are
the sharks, which extend their incursions to the seas of Sicily, to the
Adriatic, and even to the coasts of Egypt and Syria. Such, also, are the
larger cetacea—whales, rorquals, and sperm whales—whose visits,
however, are confined now to the Tyrrhenian {30} basin, and become less
frequent from century to century. The tunny-fish of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean are
also visitors from the coasts of Lusitania. First-rate swimmers, they enter
through the Strait of Gibraltar in spring, ascend the whole of the Me­di­ter­ra­‐
nean, make the tour of the Black Sea, and return in autumn to the Atlantic,
after having accomplished a journey of some 5,600 miles. In the opinion of

the fishermen the tunnies go upon their travels in three immense divisions
or shoals, and it is the central shoal which visits the coasts of the Tyrrhenian
Sea, and consists of the largest and strongest fish. Each of the three
divisions appears to be composed of individuals about the same age. For
mutual protection they swim in troops, for they are preyed upon by enemies
innumerable. Dolphins and other fish of prey follow their track, but their
great destroyer is man. In the summer the tunny fishery, or tonnaro , is
carried on in numerous bays of Sicily, Sardinia, Naples, and of Provence.
Enormous structures consisting of nets enclose these bays, and they are
ingeniously arranged so as to close gradually around the captured fish,
which, passing from net to net, find themselves at last in the “chamber of
death,” where they are massacred. Millions of pounds of flesh are annually
obtained from these floating “slaughter-houses,” yet the tunny appears year
after year in multitudes, and on the same coasts. There may have been a
slight decrease in the number, but their closely packed masses still invade
the “Golden Horn” of Byzance and other bays, as they did when first they
attracted the attention of Greek naturalists.

Fig. 7.—T HE P RINCIPAL F ISHERIES OF THE M EDITERRANEAN. Μ
Scale 1 : 38,300,000.

Next to the tunny fisheries those of the sardines and anchovies are most
important. Sea-urchins and other products of the sea are eaten by the
inhabitants of the coasts, particularly in Italy, but there is no part of the Me­‐
di­ter­ra­nean where animal life is so abundant and so prodigious in quantity
as on the celebrated banks of Newfoundland, or on the coasts of Portugal or
of the Canaries.
A large number of fishing-boats are engaged, not in the capture of fish,
but in {31} the collection of articles of dress or of the toilet. The purple-shell
fisheries on the coasts of Phœnicia, the Peloponnesus, and Greece are no
longer carried on, but hundreds of boats are employed annually during the
fine season in fishing for coral or sponges.
Coral is found most abundantly in the western portion of the Me­di­ter­ra­‐
nean, and the Italian fishermen do not confine themselves to their own
shores—to Sicily, Naples, and Sardinia—but also visit the Strait of
Bonifacio, the sea off St. Tropez, the vicinity of Cape Creus in Spain, and
the waters of Barbary. Ordinary sponges are collected in the Gulf of Gabes,
and at the other extremity of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, on the coasts of Syria and
Asia Minor, and in the straits winding between the Cyclades and Sporades.
Sponges are usually found at a depth of from 12 to 150 feet, and can be
gathered by divers; whilst coral occurs at far greater depths, and has to be
wrenched off with an iron instrument, which brings up its fragments, mixed
with ooze, seaweeds, and the remains of marine animalculæ. This industry
is still in a state of barbarism: those devoted to it are not as yet sufficiently
acquainted with the sea and its inhabitants to enable them to carry on the
sponge and coral fisheries in a rational manner. Yet this they must aim at:
they must learn how to deprive Proteus, the ever-changing deity, of his
dominion over the inhabitants of the deep.
Next to the fisheries, the preparation of sea salt constitutes one of the
leading industries of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean coast-lands. But this industry, too, is
frequently carried on in a primitive way, and only in the course of the
present century have scientific methods been introduced in connection with
it. The Me­di­ter­ra­nean is admirably suited for the production of salt, for its
waters have a high temperature, they hold a very large quantity of salt in

solution, the rise and fall of the tides are inconsiderable, and flat seashores
alternate with steep coasts and promontories. The most productive salt
marshes of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean are probably those on the Lagoon, or Étang
de Thau, near Cette, and on the littoral of Hyères; but considerable ones
may also be met with on the coasts of Spain, in Italy, in Sardinia, Sicily,
Istria, and even on the “limans” of Bessarabia, bordering upon the Black
Sea. The annual production of salt is estimated at more than a million tons,
and exceeds, therefore, the entire tonnage of the commercial marine of
10
France. But this quantity, large as it is, is infinitesimal if we compare it
with the saline contents of the sea, and science will enable us one day to
11
raise a far more abundant treasure from its sterile depths.

III.—C OMMERCE AND N AVIGATION.
Whatever advantages may be yielded by fisheries and salt-works, they
shrink into insignificance if we compare them with the great gain—
material, intellectual, {32} and moral—which mankind has derived from the
navigation of this inland sea. It has repeatedly been pointed out by
historians that the disposition of the coasts, islands, and peninsulas of the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean of the Phœnicians and Greeks admirably favoured the first
essays in maritime commerce. Many causes have contributed to make this
sea the cradle of European commerce: the faint summits of distant lands
visible even before the port has been quitted; numerous nooks along the
coasts where a safe refuge may be found in case of storms; regular land and
sea breezes; an equability of climate which makes the sailor feel at home
wherever business takes him; and, moreover, a great variety of productions
resulting from the diverse configuration of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean coast-lands.
And this commerce, does it not lead to a peaceful intercourse between
peoples on neutral ground, and to mutual enlightenment, brought about by
an interchange of ideas? Every coast-line which facilitates the intercourse
between nations is, therefore, of immense value as a means of developing
civilisation.
Civilisation for many centuries marched from the south-east towards the
north-west, and Phœnicia, Greece, Italy, and France have successively
become great centres of human intelligence. This historical phenomenon is
due to the configuration of the sea, which has been the vehicle of migratory
nations. In fact, the axis of civilisation, if this expression be allowed, has
become confounded with that axis of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean which extends
from the coast of Syria to the Gulf of Lions, on the coast of France. But the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean has ceased to be the only centre of gravitation of Europe,
which sends its merchantmen now to the two Americas and the farthest
East; and civilisation no longer marches in that general line from east to
west, but rather radiates in all directions. Civilising streams depart from
England and Germany towards Northern America, and from the Latinised
countries of Europe towards Southern America. Their direction is still

westerly, but they have been deflected towards the south, to meet the
conditions imposed by climate and the geographical configuration of land
and sea.
It is interesting to trace the changes which have occurred in the historical
importance of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. As long as that sea remained the great
highway between nations, the commercial republics were content to extend
this highway towards the east, by establishing caravan routes to the Gulf of
Persia, to India, and to China. In the Middle Ages Genoese factories dotted
the coasts of the Black Sea, and extended thence through Trans-Caucasia as
far as the Caspian. European travellers, and particularly Italians, at that time
crossed Western Asia in all directions; and many a route hardly known in
our days was then frequented almost daily. But for several centuries direct
commercial intercourse with Central Asia has dwindled down to small
proportions.
The Me­di­ter­ra­nean had ceased to be a great ocean highway. Our
navigators, no longer dreading a boundless sea, took their ships into every
part of the ocean. The difficult and perilous land routes were abandoned, the
once busy markets of Central Asia became solitudes, and the Me­di­ter­ra­nean
itself a veritable blind alley, as far as the world’s commerce was concerned.
This condition of affairs lasted for many years, but since the middle of this
century our relations with the East have {33} been renewed, and the lost
ground is rapidly being recovered. Within the last year a great commercial
revolution has been effected through the opening of one of the ancient gates
of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, and the Suez Canal has become the great highway of
steamers between Western Europe, the Indies, and Australia. Possibly, at no
distant future, a similar canal will enable our merchantmen to proceed from
the Black Sea to the Caspian, and perhaps even to the Amu and the Syr, in
the very heart of the ancient continent.
It is thus that the great centres of in­ter­com­mu­ni­ca­tion, or vital points of
our planet, as we should like to call them, become shifted in the course of
time. Port Said, an improvised town on a desert shore, has thus become a
centre of attraction for travellers and merchandise, whilst the neighbouring
cities of Tyre and Sidon have dwindled down into miserable villages, with

nothing to indicate the proud position they held in the past. Carthage, too,
has perished, and Venice decayed. Many a thriving place on the shores of
the Me­di­ter­ra­nean has been reduced to insignificance through the silting up
of its harbour, the employment of larger vessels, the loss of independence,
or through political changes of all kinds. But in nearly every instance some
neighbouring town has taken the place of these decayed harbours, and most
of the great routes of commerce have maintained their original directions,
and their terminal points, as well as intermediate stations, have remained in
the same localities.
There are, moreover, certain places which ships are almost obliged to
frequent, and where towns of importance arise as a matter of course. Such
are the Straits of Gibraltar and of Messina; such, also, are places like
Genoa, Trieste, and Saloniki, which occupy the bottom of gulfs or bays
penetrating far into the land. Ports offering the greatest facilities for
embarking merchandise intended for foreign countries, such as Marseilles
and Alexandria, are likewise natural centres of attraction to merchants. One
town there is in the Me­di­ter­ra­nean which enjoys at one and the same time
every one of the geographical advantages which we have pointed out, for it
is situated on a strait connecting two seas and separating two continents.
This town is Constantinople, and despite the deplorable mal­ad­mi­ni­stra­tion
under which it suffers, its position alone has enabled it to maintain its place
amongst the great cities of the world.
The ports of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean no longer enjoy a monopoly of commerce
as they did for thousands of years, but the number of ships to be met with in
that inland sea is, nevertheless, proportionately far greater than what we
meet with on the open oceans. The commercial marine of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean
numbers thirty-seven thousand vessels, of a capacity of two million seven
hundred and ninety-six thousand tons, without counting fishing-boats. This
is more than one-fourth of the entire commercial marine of the world, as
respects the number of ships, and one-sixth of it as regards tonnage. This
inferiority of tonnage is due to the small vessels of ancient types which still
maintain their ground in Greece and Italy, and which possess certain
advantages for the coasting trade.

To this marine of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean should be added the vessels
belonging to foreign ports, which visit it for purposes of trade, and amongst
which those of {34} England take the most prominent rank. The Government
of Great Britain has even taken care to secure itself a place amongst the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean powers. It has occupied Gibraltar, at the eastern entrance to
this basin, and taken possession of Malta, which commands its centre; and
although the western entrance, formed by the Suez Canal, is not in its
possession, its garrisons on Perim and the rock of Aden are able at any
moment to close up the only approach to it which leads from the Indian
Ocean through the Red Sea.

Fig. 8.—S TEAMER R OUTES AND T ELEGRAPHS IN THE M EDITERRANEAN. Μ
Scale 1 : 45,000,000.

The share which England takes in the commerce of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean is
considerable, but it is surpassed by far by that of France and Italy. A
sovereign who aspired to the dominion of the world once spoke of the
inland sea extending from the Strait of Gibraltar to Egypt as a “French
lake;” but with equal justice might it be called a Greek, a Dalmatian, or
Spanish lake, and with still greater an Italian lake. The pirates of Barbary
were, in reality, the last “masters” of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean: their swift vessels

presented themselves unexpectedly before the coast towns, and carried off
their inhabitants. But since their predatory fleets have been destroyed, the
Me­di­ter­ra­nean has become the common property of the world, and the
meshes of an international network of maritime highways become closer
from year to year. The merchantmen no longer pursue their voyages in
company as they did in former times, discharging their cargo from port to
port, for a single vessel may venture now into any portion of the Me­di­ter­ra­‐
nean in safety. Still there remain the dangers of reefs and of storms. The art
of navigation has made vast progress; most of the capes, at least on the
coasts of Europe, are lit up by lighthouses; the approaches to the ports are
rendered easy by lightships, buoys, and beacons; but shipwrecks are
nevertheless of frequent occurrence. Even large vessels founder sometimes,
without leaving a stray plank behind to indicate the place of their
disappearance.
Steamers travelling along prescribed routes are now gradually taking the
place of sailing vessels, and where they cross at frequent intervals they may
be {35} likened to ferry-boats crossing a river. The regularity and speed of
these steam ferries; the facilities which they afford for the conveyance of
merchandise; the increasing number of railways which convey the produce
of the interior to the seaports; and lastly, the submarine telegraphs, which
have established instantaneous means of communication between the
principal ports, all contribute towards the growth of Me­di­ter­ra­nean
commerce. This commerce, including imports and exports, and the transit
12
through the Suez Canal, actually amounts to about £353,000,000, a year.
This may not be much for a maritime population of a hundred millions, but
a perceptible increase is taking place from year to year. We should also bear
in mind that, face to face with the busy peninsulas of Europe, there lies
torrid Africa, an inert mass, avoided by the sailors of our own age as much
as it was by those of ancient Greece. Its coasts are hardly ever visited, with
the exception of those portions which extend from Oran to Tunis, and from
Alexandria to Port Said. It is matter of surprise, too, that certain localities
which formerly attracted crowds of vessels, such as Cyrenaica, Cyprus, and

beautiful Crete, at the very entrance to the Archipelago, should still remain
outside the ordinary track of our steamers.

GRE E CE .

I.—G ENERAL A SPECTS.
REECE, within its confined political boundaries, to the south
of the Gulfs of Arta and Volo, is a country of about nineteen
thousand square miles, or at most equal to the ten-millionth
part of the earth’s surface. Within the vast empire of Russia
there are many districts more extensive than the whole of
Greece, but there is nothing which distinguishes these from other districts
which surround them, and their names call forth no idea in our mind. The
little country of the Hellenes, however, so insignificant upon our maps—
how many memories does it not awaken ! In no other part of the world had
man attained a degree of civilisation equally harmonious in all respects, or
more favourable to individual development. Even now, though carried
along within an historical cycle far more vast than that of the Greeks, we
should do well to look back frequently in order to contemplate those small
nations, who are still our masters in the arts, and first initiated us into
science. The city which was the “school of Greece” still remains the school
of the entire world; and after twenty centuries of decay, like some of those

extinct stars whose luminous rays yet reach the earth, still continues to
enlighten us.
The considerable part played by the people of Greece during many ages
must undoubtedly be ascribed to the geographical position of their country.
Other tribes having the same origin, but inhabiting countries less happily
situated—such, for instance, as the Pelasgians of Illyria, who are believed
to be the ancestors of the Albanians—have never risen above a state of
barbarism, whilst the Hellenes placed themselves at the head of civilised
nations, and opened fresh paths to their enterprise. If Greece had remained
for ever what it was during the tertiary geological epoch—a vast plain
attached to the deserts of Libya, and run over by lions and the rhinoceros—
would it have become the native country of a Phidias, an Æschylos, or a
Demosthenes? Certainly not. It would have shared the fate of Africa, and,
far from taking the initiative in civilisation, would have waited for an
impulse to be given to it from beyond. {37}
Greece, a sub-peninsula of the peninsula of the Balkans, was even more
completely protected by transverse mountain barriers in the north than was
Thracia or Macedonia. Greek culture was thus able to develop itself without
fear of being stifled at its birth by successive invasions of barbarians.
Mounts Olympus, Pelion, and Ossa, towards the north and east of Thessaly,
constituted the first line of formidable obstacles towards Macedonia. A
second barrier, the steep range of the Othrys, runs along what is the present
political boundary of Greece. To the south of the Gulf of Lamia a fresh
obstacle awaits us, for the range of the Œta closes the passage, and there is
but the narrow pass of the Thermopylæ between it and the sea. Having
crossed the mountains of the Locri and descended into the basin of Thebæ,
there still remain to be crossed the Parnes or the spurs of the Cithæron
before we reach the plains of Attica. The “isthmus” beyond these is again
defended by transverse barriers, outlying ramparts, as it were, of the
mountain citadel of the Peloponnesus, that acropolis of all Greece. Hellas
has frequently been compared to a series of chambers, the doors of which
were strongly bolted; it was difficult to get in, but more difficult to get out
again, owing to their stout defenders. Michelet likens Greece to a trap

having three compartments. You entered, and found yourself taken first in
Macedonia, then in Thessaly, then between the Thermopylæ and the
isthmus. But the difficulties increase beyond the isthmus, and Lacedæmonia
remained impregnable for a long time.
At an epoch when the navigation even of a land-locked sea like the
Ægean was attended with danger, Greece found herself sufficiently
protected against the invasions of oriental nations; but, at the same time, no
other country held out such inducements to the pacific expeditions of
merchants. Gulfs and harbours facilitated access to her Ægean coasts, and
the numerous outlying islands were available as stations or as places of
refuge. Greece, therefore, was favourably placed for entering into
commercial intercourse with the more highly civilised peoples who dwelt
on the opposite coasts of Asia Minor. The colonists and voyagers of Eastern
Ionia not only supplied their Achæan and Pelasgian kinsmen with foreign
commodities and merchandise, but they also imparted to them the myths,
the poetry, the sciences, and the arts of their native country. Indeed, the
geographical configuration of Greece points towards the east, whence she
has received her first enlightenment. Her peninsulas and outlying islands
extend in that direction; the harbours on her eastern coasts are most
commodious, and afford the best shelter; and the mountain-surrounded
plains there offer the best sites for populous cities. Greece, at the same time,
does not share the disadvantage of Turkey, which is almost cut off from the
western world by a mountain region difficult to cross. The Ionian Sea, to
the west of the Peloponnesus, it is true, is, comparatively speaking, a desert;
but farther north the Gulf of Corinth almost cuts in two the Greek
peninsula, and the sight of the distant mountains of Italy, which are visible
from the Ionian Islands, must have incited to an exploration of the western
seas. The Acarnanians, who knew how to build vaults long before the
Romans, were thus brought early into contact with the Italians, to whom
they imparted their {38} knowledge, and at a subsequent period the Greeks
became the civilisers of the whole western world of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean.
The most distinctive feature of Hellas, as far as concerns the relief of the
ground, consists in the large number of small basins, separated one from the

other by rocks or mountain ramparts. The features of the ground thus
favoured the division of the Greek people into a multitude of independent
republics. Every town had its river, its amphitheatre of hills or mountains,
its acropolis, its fields, pastures, and forests, and nearly all of them had,
likewise, access to the sea. All the elements required by a free community
were thus to be found within each of these small districts, and the
neighbourhood of other towns, equally favoured, kept alive perpetual
emulation, too frequently degenerating into strife and battle. The islands of
the Ægean Sea, likewise, had constituted themselves into miniature
republics. Local institutions thus developed themselves freely, and even the
smallest island of the Archipelago has its great representatives in history.
But whilst there thus exists the greatest diversity, owing to the
configuration of the ground and the multitude of islands, the sea acts as a
binding element, washes every coast, and penetrates far inland. These gulfs
and numerous harbours have made the maritime inhabitants of Greece a
nation of sailors—amphibiæ, as Strabo called them. From the most remote
times the passion for travel has always been strong amongst them. When
the inhabitants of a town grew too numerous to support themselves upon
the produce of their land, they swarmed out like bees, explored the coasts of
the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, and, when they had found a site which recalled their
native home, they built themselves a new city. It was thus Greek cities arose
in hundreds of places, from the Mæotis Palus to beyond the columns of
Hercules—from Tanais and Panticapæum to Gades and Tingis, the modern
Tangier. Thanks to those numerous colonies, some of them more powerful
and renowned than the mother towns which gave birth to them, the veritable
Greece, the Greece of science and art and republican independence, in the
end overflowed its ancient cradle, and sporadically occupied the whole
circumference of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. The Greeks held the same position
relatively to the world of the ancients which is occupied at the present time
by the Anglo-Saxons with reference to the entire earth. There exists, indeed,
a remarkable analogy between Greece, with its archipelago, and the British
Islands, at the other extremity of the continent. Similar geographical
advantages have brought about similar results, as far as commerce is

concerned, and between the Ægean and the British seas time and space have
effected a sort of harmony.

The admiration with which travellers behold Greece is due, above all, to
the memories attaching to every one of its ruins, to the smallest amongst its
rivulets, and the most insignificant rock in its seas. Scenery in Provence or
Spain, though it may surpass in grace or boldness of outline anything to be
seen in Greece, is appreciated only by a few. The mass go past it without
emotion, for names like Marathon, Leuctra, or Platææ are not connected
with it, and the rustle of bygone ages is not heard. But even if glorious
memories were not associated with the {39} coasts of Greece, their beauty
would nevertheless entitle them to our admiration. In the gulfs of Athens or
of Argos the artist is charmed not only with the azure blue of the waters, the
transparency of the sky, the ever-changing perspective along the shores, and
the boldness of the promontories, but also with the pure and graceful profile
of the mountains, which consist of layers of limestone or of marble. We
almost fancy we look upon architectural piles; and the temples with which
many a summit is adorned appear to epitomize them.
It is verdure and the sparkling water of rivulets which we miss most on
the shores of Greece. Nearly all the mountains near the coast have been
despoiled of their large trees. There remain only bushes, mastic, strawberry,
and juniper trees, and evergreen oaks; even the carpet of odoriferous herbs
which clothes the declivities, and upon which the goat browses, has in
many instances been reduced to a few miserable patches. Torrents of rain
have carried away the mould, and the naked rock appears on the surface.
From a distance we only see greyish declivities, dotted here and there with
a few wretched shrubs. Even in the days of Strabo most mountains along
the coasts had been robbed of their forests, and one of our modern authors
says that “Greece is a skeleton only of what it used to be !” By a sort of
irony, geographical names derived from trees abound throughout Hellas and
Turkey: Caryæ is the “town of walnut-trees,” Valanidia that of the Valonia
oaks, Kyparissi that of cypresses, Platanos or Plataniki that of plane-trees.
Everywhere we meet with localities whose appellation is justified by

nothing. Forests at the present day are confined almost entirely to the
interior and to the Ionian coast. The Œta Mountains, some of the mountains
of Ætolia, the hills of Acarnania, and Arcadia, Elis, Triphylia, and the slopes
of the Taygetus, in the Peloponnesus, still retain their forests. And it is only
in these forest districts, visited solely by herdsmen, that savage animals,
such as the wolf, the fox, and the jackal, are now met with. The chamois, it
is said, still haunts the recesses of the Pindus and Œta Mountains; but the
wild boar of the Erymanthus, which must have been a distinct species if we
are to judge by antique sculptures, exists no more in Greece, and the lion,
still mentioned by Aristotle, has not been seen for two thousand years.
Amongst the smaller animals there is a turtle, common in some parts of the
Peloponnesus, which the natives look upon with the same aversion as do
many western nations upon the toad and the salamander.
Greece is a small country, but the variety of its climate is nevertheless
great. Striking differences in the climate of different localities are produced
by the contrasts between mountains and plains, woodlands and sterile
valleys, coasts having a northern or southern aspect. But even leaving out of
sight these local differences, it may safely be asserted that the varieties of
climate which we meet with in traversing Greece from north to south are
scarcely exceeded in any other region. The mountains of Ætolia, in the
north, whose slopes are covered with beech-trees, remind us of the
temperate zone of Europe, whilst the peninsulas and islands towards the
east and south, with their thickets of fig and olive trees, their plantations of
oranges and lemons, their aloe hedges and rare palm-trees, belong to the
sub-tropical zone. But even neighbouring districts occasionally {40} differ
strikingly as regards climate. In the ancient lake basin of Bœotia the winters
are cold, the summers scorching, whilst the temperature of the eastern shore
of Eubœa is equable, owing to the moderating influence of sea breezes.
Within a narrow compass Greece presents us with the climates of a large
portion of the earth, and there can be no doubt that this diversity of climate,
and the contrasts of every kind springing from it, must have favourably
influenced the intellectual development of the Hellenes. A spirit of inquiry

was called forth amongst them which reacted upon their commercial tastes
and industrial proclivities.
The diversity of the climate of the land, however, is compensated for, in
Greece, by a uniformity in the climate of the maritime districts. As in a
mountain valley, the winds of the Ægean Sea blow alternately in contrary
directions. During nearly the whole of summer the atmospheric currents of
Eastern Europe are attracted towards the African deserts. The winds from
the north of the Archipelago and Macedonia then speed the navigator on his
voyage to the south, and on many occasions the conquering tribes of the
northern shores of that sea have availed themselves of them in their
improvised attacks upon the inhabitants of the more southern districts of
Asia Minor and of Greece. These regular northerly currents, known as
etesian or annual winds, cease on the termination of the hot season, when
the sun stands above the southern tropic. They are, moreover, interrupted
every night, when the cool sea air is attracted by the heated surface of the
land. When the sun has set the wind gradually subsides; there is a calm,
lasting a few moments; and then the air begins to move in an inverse
direction—“the land begins to blow,” as the sailors say. Nor is this regular
wind without its counter-current, known as the embates , or propitious
south-easterly breeze of which the poets sing. General winds and breezes,
moreover, are deflected from their original directions in consequence of the
configuration of the coast and the direction of mountain chains. The Gulf of
Corinth, for instance, is shut in by high mountains on the north and the
south, and the winds alternately enter it from the east or west—a
phenomenon likened by Strabo to the breathing of an animal.
The rains, like the winds, deviate in many places from the average, and
whilst the water pours down into some mountain valleys as into a funnel,
elsewhere the clouds drift past without parting with a drop of their humid
burden. Contrasts in the amount of precipitation are thus added to those
resulting from differences of configuration and variety of climate. As a rule,
rain is more abundant on the western shores of Greece than on the eastern,
and this fact accounts for the smiling aspect of the hills of Elis, as compared
with the barren declivities of Argolis and Attica. Thunder-storms, driven

before the winds of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean, likewise recur with greater
regularity in the western portion of the peninsula. In Elis and Acarnania the
roll of thunder may be heard in spring daily, for whole weeks, in the
afternoon. No sites more apposite could have been found for temples
dedicated to Jupiter, the god of lightning.

The ancient inhabitants of the Cyclades, and probably, also, those of the
coasts {41} of Hellas and Asia Minor, had already attained a considerable
amount of culture long before the commencement of our historical records.
This has been proved by excavations made in the volcanic ashes of Santorin
and Therasia. At the time their houses were buried beneath the ashes, the
Santoriniotes had begun to pass from the age of stone into that of copper.
They knew how to build arches of stone and mortar, they manufactured
lime, used weights made of blocks of lava, wove cloth, made pottery, dyed
their stuffs, and ornamented their houses with frescoes; they cultivated
barley, peas, and lentils, and had begun to trade with distant countries.
We do not know whether these men were of the same race as the
Hellenes; but thus much is certain—that at the earliest dawn of history the
islands and coasts of the Ægean Sea were peopled by various families of
Greeks, whilst the interior of the country and the western shores of the
peninsula were inhabited by Pelasgians. These Pelasgians, moreover, were
of the same stock as the Greeks, and they spoke a language derived from
the same source as the dialects of the Hellenes. Both were Aryans, and,
unless natives of the soil, they must have immigrated into Greece from Asia
Minor by crossing the Hellespont, or by way of the islands of the
Archipelago. The Pelasgians, according to tradition, sprang from Mount
Lycæus, in the centre of the Peloponnesus; they boasted of being
“autochthons,” “men of the black soil,” “children of oaks,” or “men born
before the moon.” All around them lived tribes of kindred origin, such as
the Æolians and the Leleges, and these were afterwards joined by Ionians
and Achæans. The Ionians, who, in a subsequent age, exercised so great an
influence over the destinies of the world, only occupied the peninsula of
Attica and the neighbouring Eubœa. The Achæans for a long time enjoyed a

preponderance, and in the end the Greek clans collectively became known
by that name. Later on, when the Dorians had crossed the Gulf of Corinth
where it is narrowest, and established themselves as conquerors in the
Peloponnesus, the Amphictyons, or national councils, sitting alternately at
Thermopylæ and Delphi, conferred the name of Hellenes, which was that of
a small tribe in Thessaly and Phthiotis, upon all the inhabitants of the
peninsula and the islands. The name of Greek, which signifies, perhaps,
“mountaineer,” “ancient,” or “son of the soil,” gradually spread amongst the
nation, and in the end became general. The Ionians of Asia Minor, and the
Carians of the Sporades, emulated the Phœnicians by trading from port to
port amongst these half-savage tribes, and, like bees which convey the
fecundating pollen from flower to flower, they carried the civilisation of
Egypt and the East from tribe to tribe.

Fig. 9.—M AINOTE AND S PARTAN.

Phœnician merchants and Roman conquerors scarcely modified the
elements composing the population of Hellas, but during the age of
migrations barbarians in large numbers penetrated into Greece. For more

than two centuries did the Avares maintain themselves in the Peloponnesus.
Then came the Slavs, aided, on more than one occasion, by the plague in
depopulating the country. Greece became a Slavonia, and a Slavonian
language, probably Servian, was universally spoken, as is proved by the
majority of geographical names. The superstitions and legends {42} of the
modern Greeks, as has been remarked by many authors, are not simply a
heritage derived from the ancient Hellenes, but have become enriched by
phantoms and vampires of Slav invention. The dress of the Greeks, too, is a
legacy of their northern conquerors. But, in spite of this, the polished
language of the Hellenes {43} has regained by degrees its ancient
preponderance, and the race has so thoroughly amalgamated these foreign
immigrants, that it is impossible now to trace any Servian elements in the
population. But hardly had Hellas escaped the danger of becoming Slav
when it was threatened with becoming Albanian. This occurred during the
dominion of Venice. As recently as the commencement of the present
century Albanian was the dominant language of Elis, Argos, Bœotia, and
Attica, and even at the present day a hundred thousand supposed Hellenes
still speak it. The actual population of Greece is, therefore, a very mixed
one, but it is difficult to say in what proportions these Hellenic, Slav, and
Albanian elements have combined. The Mainotes, or Maniotes, of the
peninsula terminating in Cape Matapan, are generally supposed to be the
Greeks of the purest blood. They themselves claim to be the descendants of
the ancient Spartans, and amongst their strongholds they still point out one
which belonged to “Signor Lycurgus.” Their Councils of Elders have
preserved from immemorial times, and down to the war of independence,
the title of Senate of Lacedæmonia. Every Mainote professes to love unto
death “Liberty, the highest of all goods, inherited from our Spartan
ancestors.” Nevertheless, a good many localities in Maina bear names
derived from the Servian, and these prove, at all events, that the Slavs
resided in the country for a considerable time. The Mainotes practise the
vendetta , as if they were Montenegrins. But is not this a common custom
amongst all uncivilised nations?

However this may be, in spite of invasions and intermixture with other
races, the Greeks of to-day agree in most points with the Greeks of the past.
Above all things, they have preserved their language, and it is truly matter
for surprise that the vulgar Greek, though derived from a rural dialect,
should differ so slightly only from the literary language. The differences,
analogous to what may be observed with respect to the languages derived
from the Latin, are restricted almost to two points, viz. the contraction of
non-accentuated syllables and the use of auxiliary verbs. It was, therefore,
easy for the modern Greeks to purify their language from barbarisms and
foreign terms, and to restore it gradually to what it was in the time of
Thucydides. Nor has the race changed much in its physical features, for in
most districts of modern Greece the ancient types may yet be recognised.
The Bœotian is still distinguished by that heavy gait which made him an
object of ridicule amongst the other Greeks; the Athenian youth possesses
the suppleness, grace of movement and bearing which we admire so much
in the horsemen sculptured on the friezes of the Parthenon; the Spartan
women have preserved that haughty and vigorous beauty which constituted
the charm of the virgins of Doris. As regards morals, the descent of the
modern Hellenes is equally evident. Like their ancestors, they are fond of
change, and inquisitive; as the descendants of free citizens, they have
preserved a feeling of equality; and, still infatuated with dialectics, they
hold forth at all times as if they were in the ancient market-place, or Agora.
They frequently stoop to flattery: like the ancient Greeks, too, they are apt
to rate intellectual merit above purity of morals. {44} Like sage Ulysses of
the Homeric poem, they well know how to lie and cheat with grace; and the
truthful Acarnanian and the Mainote, who are “slow to promise, but sure to
keep,” are looked upon as rural oddities. Another trait in the character of the
modern and ancient Greeks, and one which distinguishes them from all
other Europeans, is this—that they do not allow themselves to be carried
away by passion, except in the cause of patriotism. The Greek is a stranger
to melancholy: he loves life, and is determined to enjoy it. In battle he may
throw it away, but suicide is a species of death unknown amongst the

modern Greeks, and the more unhappy they are, the more they cling to
existence. They are very seldom afflicted with insanity.

Fig. 10.—F OREIGN E LEMENTS IN THE P OPULATION OF G REECE. Μ

In spite of the diverse elements which compose it, the Greek nationality
is one of the most homogeneous in Europe. The Albanians, of Pelasgian
descent like the Greeks, do not cede to the latter in patriotism; and it was
they—the Suliotes, Hydriotes, Spezziotes—who fought most valiantly for
national independence. The eight hundred families of Rumanian or Kutzo-
Wallachian Zinzares who pasture their herds in the hills of Acarnania and
Ætolia, and are known as Kara-Gunis, or “black cloaks,” speak the two
languages, and sometimes marry Greek girls, though they never give their
own daughters in marriage to the Greeks. Haughty and free, they are not
sufficiently numerous to be of any great importance. To foreigners the
Greeks are rather intolerant, and they take no pains to render their stay
amongst them agreeable. The Turks—who were numerous formerly in
certain parts of the Peloponnesus, in Bœotia, and in the {45} island of

Eubœa, and whose presence recalled an unhappy period of servitude—have
fled to a man, and only the fez, the narghile, and the slippers remind us of
their former presence. The Jews, though met with in every town of the East,
whether Slav or Mussulman, dare hardly enter the presence of the Greeks,
who are, moreover, their most redoubtable rivals in matters of finance: they
are to be found only in the Ionian Islands, where they managed to get a
footing during the British Protectorate. In this same Archipelago we
likewise meet with the descendants of the ancient Venetian colonists, and
with emigrants from all parts of Italy. French and Italian families still form
a distinct element of the population of Naxos, Santorin, and Syra. As to the
Maltese porters and gardeners at Athens and Corfu, they continue for the
most part in subordinate positions, and never associate with the Greeks.

The homogeneous character of the population of Greece does not admit
of that country being divided into ethnological provinces, like Turkey or
Austro-Hungary, but it consists geographically of four distinct portions.
These are (1), continental Hellas, known since the Turkish invasion as
Rumelia, in remembrance of the “Roman” empire of Byzantium; (2), the
ancient Peloponnesus, now called the Morea, perhaps a transposition of the
word “Romea,” or from a Slav word signifying “sea coast,” and applied
formerly to Elis; (3), the islands of the Ægean Sea; (4), the Ionian Islands.
In describing the various portions of Greece we shall make use, in
preference, of the ancient names of mountains, rivers, and towns; for the
Hellenes of our own day, proud of the glories of the past, are endeavouring
gradually to get rid of names of Slav or Italian origin, which still figure
13
upon the maps of their country.

II.—C ONTINENTAL G REECE.
The Pindus, which forms the central chain of Southern Turkey, passes over
into Greece, and imparts to it an analogous orographical character. On both
sides of this conventional boundary we meet with the same rocks, the same
vegetation, the same landscape features, and the same races of people. By
dividing the Epirus and handing over Thessaly to the Turks, European
diplomacy has paid no attention to natural features. The eastern portion of
the boundary is made to follow the line of water parting over the range of
the lofty Othrys, commanding the plain of the Sperchius. Westward of the
Pindus the boundary {46} crosses transversely the valley of the Achelous,
and the hills which separate it from the Gulf of Arta.
Fig. 11.—M OUNT P ARNASSUS AND D ELPHI.

The isolated summit of Mount Tymphrestus, or Velukhi, which rises
where the grand chain of the Othrys branches off from the Pindus, is not the
culminating point of continental Greece, but it is a centre from which the
principal mountain spurs and rivers radiate. Within its spurs lies hidden the
charming valley of Karpenisi, and an elevated ridge joins them, towards the
south-east, to the most important mountain mass of modern Greece, viz. the
group surmounted by the snow-clad pyramids of the Vardusia and Khiona,
whose slopes are covered with dark firs, and to the superb Katavothra, the
Œta of the ancients, on which Hercules built his funeral pile. The mountains
of Vardusia and Khiona are face to face with the fine mountain masses of
Northern Morea, likewise wooded and covered with snow during the
greater part of the year.
The mountains of Ætolia, to the west of the Velukhi and the Vardusia, are
far less elevated, but they are rugged, and form a veritable chaos of rocks,
savage defiles, and thickets, into which only Wallachian herdsmen venture.
In Southern Ætolia, on the shores of the lakes and along the rivers, the
country is more accessible, but mountains rise there likewise, and by
tortuous ridges they are brought into connection with the system of the
Pindus. Those on the coast of Acarnania, opposite to the Ionian Islands, are
steep, covered with trees and shrubs; they are the mountains of the “Black
Continent” mentioned by Ulysses. {47} To the east of the Achelous there is
another coast chain, well known to mariners: this is the Zygos, the southern
slopes of which, arid and austere, are seen from off Missolonghi. Still
further to the east another range comes down to the seashore, and, together
with the promontories on the opposite coast of the Morea, forms the narrow
entrance to the Gulf of Corinth. Close to this entrance, on the Ætolian side,
there rises bold Mount Varassova, a huge block of rock. Local tradition tells
us that the Titans endeavoured to throw this rock into the sea, so that it
might form a bridge between the two coasts; but the rock proved too heavy,
and it was dropped where we now see it.
Towards the Ægean Sea the mountain mass of the Katavothra is
continued by a coast range running in a direction parallel to the mountains
of the island of Eubœa. This range should be described rather as a series of

mountain-groups separated from each other by deep hollows, extensive
depressions, and even by river valleys. These mountains, though low and
intersected by numerous roads, are nevertheless difficult of access, for their
slopes are steep, their promontories abrupt, and their precipices sudden, and
in the times of the ancient Greeks a small number of men repeatedly
defended them against large armies. At one extremity of this range is the
passage of Thermopylæ; at the other, on the eastern foot of the Pentelicus,
the famous plain of Marathon.
The mountain groups on the northern shore of the Gulf of Corinth, and to
the south of Bœotia, may be looked upon as a range running parallel with
that following the channel of Eubœa, but far more beautiful and
picturesque. Every one of its summits recalls the sweet memories of poetry,
or conjures up the image of some ancient deity. To the west we find
ourselves in the presence of “double-headed” Parnassus, to which fled
Deucalion and Pyrrha, the ancestors of the Greeks, and where the Athenians
celebrated their torchlight dances in honour of Bacchus. From the summits
of the Parnassus, which rival in height those of the Khiona, raising its
pyramidal head towards the north-west, nearly the whole of Greece, with its
gulfs, islands, and mountains, lies spread out below us, from the Thessalian
Olympus to the Taygetus, at the extremity of the Peloponnesus; and close
by, at our feet, lies the admirable basin of Delphi, the place of Peace and
Concord, where Greeks forgot their animosities. The mountain group
towards the east next to Parnassus is quite equal to it. The valleys of the
Helicon, the seat of Apollo and the Muses, are still the most verdant and the
most smiling in all Greece. The eastern slope of the Helicon is more
especially distinguished for its charming beauty, its woods, its verdant
pastures, gardens, and murmuring springs, which contrast most favourably
with the bare and arid plains of Bœotia. If Mount Parnassus may boast of
the Castalian spring, Mount Helicon possesses that of Hippocrene, which
burst forth from the ground when struck by the hoof of Pegasus. The
elongated summit of the Cithæron, the birthplace of Bacchus, joins the
mountains of Southern Bœotia to those of Attica, whose marble has become
famous through the neighbourhood of the city which they shelter. Mount

Parnes rises to the north of Athens; to the east of it, like the pediment of a
temple, rises the Pentelicus, in which are {48} the quarries of Pikermi,
rendered famous through their fossil bones; on the south appears Mount
Hymettus, celebrated for its flowers and its bees. Farther away, the
Laurium, with its rich argentiferous slags, stretches towards the south-east,
and terminates in Cape Sunium, consecrated in other days to Minerva and
Neptune, and still surmounted by fifteen columns of an ancient temple.
Another isolated mountain group to the south of Attica, and occupying
the entire width of the Isthmus of Megara, served the Athenians as a
rampart of defence against their neighbours of the Peloponnesus. This is the
14
mountain group of Gerania, the modern Pera Khora. Having passed
beyond it, we find ourselves upon the Isthmus of Corinth, properly so
called, confined between the Gulfs of Athens and of Corinth. It is a narrow
neck of land, scarcely five miles across, whose arid limestone rocks hardly
rise two hundred feet above the sea. This neutral bit of territory, lying
between two distinct geographical regions, naturally became a place for
meetings, festivals, and markets. The remains of a wall built by the
Peloponnesians across the isthmus may still be traced, as may also the canal
commenced by order of Nero.

The limestone mountains of Greece, as well as those of the Epirus and of
Thessaly, abound in lakes, but all the rivers are swallowed up in “sinks,” or
katavothras , leaving the land dry and arid. Southern Acarnania, a portion of
which is known as Xeromeros, or the “arid country,” on account of the
absence of running water, abounds in lake basins of this kind. To the south
of the Gulf of Arta, which may not inaptly be described as a sort of lake
communicating with the sea through a narrow opening, there are several
sheets of water, the remains of an inland sea, silted up by the alluvial
deposits of the Achelous. The largest of these lakes is known to the natives
as Pelagos, or “big sea,” because of its extent and the agitated state of its
waters, which break against its coasts. This is the Trichonius of the ancient
Ætolians. Reputed unfathomable, it is, in truth, very deep, and its waters are
perfectly pure; but they are discharged sluggishly into another basin far less

extensive, and surrounded by pestilential marshes, and through a turgid
stream they even find their way into the Achelous. The hills surrounding
Lake Trichonis are covered with villages and fields, whilst the locality
around the lower lake has been depopulated by fever. The country,
nevertheless, is exceedingly beautiful to look upon. Hardly have we passed
through a narrow gorge, or klisura , of Mount Zygos before we enter upon a
bridge over a mile in length, which a Turkish governor caused to be thrown
across the swamps separating the two lakes. This viaduct has sunk down
more than half its {49} height into the mud, but it is still sufficiently elevated
to enable the eye freely to sweep over the surface of the waters, and to trace
the coasts which bound them. Oaks, planes, and wild olive-trees intermingle
beneath us, their branches hung with festoons of wild vine, and these, with
the blue waters of the lake and the mountains rising beyond it, form a
picture of great beauty.

Fig. 12.—L OWER A CARNANIA. Μ
Scale 1 : 800,000.

Another lake basin lies to the south of the Zygos, between the alluvial
lands of the Achelous and the Fidari. It is occupied by a swamp filled with
fresh, brackish, or salt water; and since the days of ancient Greece, this
swamp, owing to the apathy of the inhabitants, has continued to increase in
extent at the expense of the cultivated land. Missolonghi the heroic is
indebted for its name to its position near these marshes, for the meaning of
it is “centre of marshes.” A barrier, or ramma , here and there broken
through by the floods, separates the basin of Missolonghi from the Ionian
Sea. During the war of independence every opening in this barrier was
protected by redoubts or stockades, but at present the only obstruction
consists of the reed barriers of the fishermen, which are opened in spring to
admit the fish from the sea, and closed in summer to prevent their escape.
Missolonghi, though surrounded by brackish water, is a healthy place,
thanks to the breezes from the sea; whilst a heavy atmosphere charged with
miasmata hangs perpetually over the bustling little town of Ætoliko
(Anatolikon), which lies farther to the north-west in the midst of the
swamps, and is joined to the dry land by two bridges. Between Ætoliko and
the river Achelous may be observed a large number of rocky eminences,
rising like pyramids above the plain. These are no doubt ancient islands,
such as still exist between the mainland and the island of St. Mauro. The
mud brought down by the Achelous has gradually converted the intervals
between these {50} rocks into dry land. In former times the commercial city
of Œniadæ occupied one of these islets. The geological changes already
noticed by Herodotus are thus still going on under our eyes, and the muds
of the Achelous, to which it owes its modern name of Aspro, or “white,”
incessantly extend the land at the expense of the sea.

Fig. 13.—T HERMOPYLÆ. Μ
From the French Staff Map (1852). Scale 1 : 330,000.

The Achelous, which the ancients likened to a savage bull, owing to its
rapid current and great volume, is by far the most important river of Greece.
One of the great feats ascribed to Hercules consisted in breaking off one of
the horns of this bull; that is to say, he embanked the river, and thus
protected the lands which it used to inundate. The neighbours of the
Achelous, the rapid Fidari (Evenus, on the banks of which Hercules killed
the centaur Nessus, for offering violence to Dejanira) and the Mornos,
which rises in the snows of the Œta, cannot compare with it. Still less is it
equalled by the Oropus, the Cephissus, and the Ilissus, “wet only when it
rains,” which flow eastward into the Ægean Sea. The principal river of
Eastern Greece, the Sperchius, is inferior to the Achelous, but, like it, has

extensively changed the aspect of the plain near its mouth. When Leonidas
and his three hundred heroes guarded the defiles of Thermopylæ against the
Persians, the Gulf of Lamia extended much farther into the land than it does
now. But the alluvial deposits of the river have extended its delta, and
several rivulets which formerly flowed {51} directly into the sea have now to
be numbered amongst its tributaries; the sea has retired from the foot of the
Callidromus for a distance of several miles; and the narrow pass of
Thermopylæ has been converted into a plain sufficiently wide to enable an
entire army to manœuvre upon it. The hot springs which gush from the
rocks, by forming deposits of calcareous tufa, may likewise have
contributed towards this change of coast-line; nor are more violent
convulsions of nature precluded in a volcanic region like this, subject to
frequent earthquakes. Sailors still point out a small island in this
neighbourhood, formed of scoriæ, from which the incensed Hercules hurled
his companion, Lichas, into the ocean. Hot springs abound on the opposite
coast of Eubœa, and the incrustations formed by them are so considerable
as to assume the appearance of glaciers when seen from a distance. A
bathing establishment exists now near the hot sulphur springs of
Thermopylæ, and strangers are thus enabled to explore this region, so rich
in memories of a great past. The pedestal, however, upon which reposed the
figure of a marble lion, placed there in honour of Leonidas, has been
destroyed by ruthless hands, and utilised in the construction of a mill !
The basin of the Cephissus, enclosed by the chains of the Œta and
Parnassus, is one of the most remarkable from an hydrological point of
view. The river first flows through a bottom-land formerly a lake, and then,
forcing for itself a passage through a narrow defile commanded by the spurs
of Mount Parnassus, it winds round the rock upon which stood the ancient
city of Orchomenus, and enters upon a vast plain, where swamps and lakes
are embedded amidst cultivated fields and reed-banks. These swamps are
fed, likewise, by numerous torrents descending from the Helicon and other
mountains in its vicinity. One of these is the torrent of Livadia, into which
the bounteous springs of Memory and Oblivion—Mnemosyne and Lethe—
discharge themselves. In summer a large portion of the plain is dry, and it

yields a bountiful harvest of maize, the stalks of which are sweet like sugar-
cane. But after the heavy rains of autumn and winter the waters rise twenty,
and even twenty-five feet, and the plain is converted into a vast lake,
ninety-six square miles in extent. The myth of the deluge of Ogyges almost
leads us to believe that the rising floods occasionally invaded every valley
which debouches into this basin. To the ancients the shallower part of this
lake was known as Cephissus, and its deep eastern portion as Copais, from
Copæ, a town occupying a promontory on its northern shore, and now
called Topolias.
Fig. 14.—L AKE C OPAIS Μ
From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 500,000.

The importance of regulating the floods just referred to, and of
preventing the sudden overflow of the waters to the destruction of the
cultivated fields, may readily be imagined. The ancient Greeks made an
effort to accomplish this task. To the east of the large Lake of Copais there
is another lake basin, about one hundred and thirty feet lower, and

encompassed by precipitous rocks, incapable of cultivation. This basin, the
Hylice of the Bœotians, appears to be made by nature for receiving the
superabundant waters of the Copais. The remains of a canal may still be
traced in the plain, which was evidently intended to convey into {52} it the
floods of the Copais, but it appears never to have been completed. No doubt
care was taken to keep open the various katavothras , or subterranean
channels, through which the waters of the Copaic lake discharge themselves
into the sea. One of these, on the north-western shore of the lake, and close
to the rock of Orchomenus, swallowed up the river Melas, and conveyed its
waters to the Gulf of Atalanta. Farther to the east other subterranean
channels flow towards Lakes Hylice and Paralimni, but the most important
of these channels are towards the north-east, in the Gulf of Kokkino. In that
extreme angle of the lake, the veritable Copais, the waters of the Cephissus
rush against the foot of Mount Skroponeri, and are swallowed up by the
ground so as to form a subterranean delta. To the south there is a cavernous
opening in the rock, but this is merely a sort of tunnel passing underneath a
promontory, and, except during the rainy season, it may be traversed dry-
shod. Beyond this, another opening swallows up one of the most important
branches of the Cephissus, which makes its reappearance in the shape of
bounteous springs pouring their waters into the sea. Two other branches of
the river disappear in the rocks about a mile farther north. They join soon
afterwards, and flow northwards beneath the bottom of a sinuous valley.
The old Greek engineers dug pits in this valley, which enabled them to
descend to the subterranean waters, and to clear away obstructions
interfering with their flow. Sixteen of these pits have been discovered
between the opening of the katavothra and the place where the waters
reappear. Some of these are still thirty to one hundred feet in depth; but
most of them have become choked up with stones and earth. These ancient
engineering works, which Crates vainly endeavoured to restore in the time
of Alexander, may possibly date {53} from the mythical age of King Minyas
15
of Orchomenus, and the successful draining of these marshes may account
for the well-filled treasury of that king spoken of by Homer. Thus the

ingenuity of the Homeric age had succeeded in accomplishing a work of the
engineering art which baffles our modern men of science !

PEASANTS FROM THE ENVIRONS OF ATHENS.

The whole of Western Greece, filled as it is by the mountains of
Acarnania, Ætolia, and Phocis, is condemned by nature to play a very

subordinate part to the eastern provinces. In the time of the ancient Greeks
these provinces were looked upon almost as a portion of the world of the
barbarians, and even in our own days the Ætolians are the least cultivated of
all the Greeks. There is no commerce except at a few privileged places
close to the sea, such as Missolonghi, Ætoliko, Salona, and Galaxidi. The
latter, which is situated on a bay, into which flows the Pleistus, a river at
one time consecrated to Neptune, although quite dry during the greater part
of the year, was, up to the war of independence, the busiest seaport on the
Gulf of Corinth. As for Naupactus, or Epakto, (called Lepanto by the
Italians), it was important merely from a strategical point of view, on
account of its position at the entrance of the Gulf of Corinth, which is
sometimes named after it. Many naval engagements were fought to force
the entrance into the gulf, defended by the castles of Rumelia and Morea—
the ancient Rhium and Antirrhium. A curious phenomenon has been
observed in connection with the channel which forms the entrance to the
Gulf of Corinth. Nowhere more than 36 fathoms in depth, it is subject to
perpetual changes in its width, owing to the formation of alluvial deposits
by maritime currents. What one current deposits is carried away by the
other. At the epoch of the Peloponnesian war this channel was 7 stadia, or
about 1,200 yards, wide; at the time of Strabo its width was only 5 stadia;
whilst in our own days it is no less than 2,200 yards from promontory to
promontory. The entrance of the Gulf of Arta, between the Turkish Epirus
and Greek Acarnania, does not present the same phenomena, and its present
width is about equal to that assigned to it by every ancient author; that is to
say, about 1,000 yards.
The valleys and lake basins of Eastern Greece, and more especially its
position between the Gulf of Corinth, the Ægean Sea, and the channel of
Eubœa, which almost convert it into a peninsula, sufficiently account for
the prosperity of that country. With its cities of Thebes, Athens, and
Megara, it is essentially a land of historical reminiscences. The contrast
between the two most important districts of this region—Bœotia and Attica
—is very striking. The first of these is an inland basin, the waters of which
are collected into lakes, where mists accumulate, and a rich vegetation

springs forth from a fat alluvial soil. Attica, on the other hand, is arid. A thin
layer of mould covers the terraces of its rocky slopes; its valleys open out
into the sea; the summits of its mountains rise into an azure sky; and the
blue waters of the Ægean wash their base. Had the Greeks been fearful of
the sea; had they confined themselves, as in the earliest {54} ages, to the
cultivation of the soil, Bœotia, no doubt, would have retained the
preponderance which it enjoyed in the time of the Minyæ of wealthy
Orchomenus. But the progress of navigation and the allurements of
commerce, which proved irresistible to the Greeks, were bound by degrees
to transfer the lead to the men of Attica. The city of Athens, which arose in
the midst of the largest plain of this peninsula, therefore occupied a position
which assured to it a grand future.

Fig. 15.—T HE A CROPOLIS OF A THENS.

The choice of Athens as the modern capital of Greece has been much
criticized. Times have changed, no doubt, and the natural centres of
commerce have become shifted, in consequence of the migrations of
nations. Corinth, on the isthmus joining continental Greece to the
Peloponnesus, and commanding two seas, undoubtedly deserved the
preference. Its facilities for communicating with Constantinople and the
Greek maritime districts still under the rule of the Osmanli, on the one
hand, and with the western world, from which now proceed all civilising
impulses, on the other, are certainly greater than those of Athens. If Greece,
instead of a small centralised kingdom, had become a federal republic,
which would have been more in accordance with her genius and traditions,
there is no doubt that other towns of Greece, more favourably situated than
Athens for establishing rapid communications with the rest of Europe,

would soon have surpassed that town in population and commercial wealth.
Athens, however, has grown upon its plain, and, by the construction of a
railway, it has become even {55} a maritime city, as in ancient days, when its
triple walls joined it to the ports of the Piræus and Phalerum.

Fig. 16.—A THENS AND ITS L ONG W ALLS. Μ
According to Kiepert and Schmidt. Scale 1 : 114,000.

But how great the difference between the monuments of the ancient city
and of the modern ! The Parthenon, though gutted by the shells of the
Venetian Morosini, and robbed since of its finest sculptures, still retains its
pure and simple beauty, which agrees so well with the sobriety of the
surrounding landscape—still remains the finest architectural work of the
world. By the side of this majestic ruin, on the same plateau of the
Acropolis, where the mariner in the Gulf of Ægina saw the gilt spear-head
of Athene Promachos glitter in the sun, there rise other monuments, the

Erechtheum and the Propylæa, hardly inferior to it, and dating likewise
from the great period of art. Outside the city, on a promontory, rises the
temple of Theseus, the best-preserved monument of Greek antiquity.
Elsewhere, on the banks of the Ilissus, a group of columns marks the site of
the magnificent temple of Olympian Jupiter, which it took the Athenians
seven hundred years to build, and which their degenerate descendants made
use of as a quarry. Remarkable remains have been discovered in many other
parts of the ancient city, and the least of them are of interest, for they recall
the memory of illustrious men. On such a rock sat the Areopagus which
condemned Socrates; from this stone tribune Demosthenes addressed the
multitude; and here walked Plato with his disciples !
A similar historical interest attaches to nearly every part of Attica,
whether we visit the city of Eleusis, where the mysteries of Ceres were
celebrated, or the {56} city of Megara, with its double Acropolis, or whether
we explore the field of Marathon and the shores of the island of Salamis.
Even beyond Attica the memories of the past attract the traveller to Platæa,
to Leuctra, Chæronea, Thebes of Œdipus, and Orchomenus of Minyas,
though, in comparison with what these districts were in other times, they
are now deserts. In addition to Athens and Thebes, there are now only two
cities in eastern continental Greece which are of any importance. These are
Lamia, in the midst of the low plains of the Sperchius, and Livadia, in
Bœotia, at one time celebrated for the cavern of Trophonius, which
archæologists have not yet succeeded in identifying. The island of Ægina,
which belongs to Attica, offers the same spectacle of decay and
depopulation as the mainland. Anciently it supported more than two
hundred thousand inhabitants; at present it hardly numbers six thousand.
But the island still retains the picturesque ruin of its temple of Minerva, and
the prospect which it affords of the amphitheatre of hills in Argolis and
Attica is as magnificent as ever.

Fig. 17.—A NCIENT A THENS. Μ
According to Kiepert and Schmidt. Scale 1 : 30,000.

III.—T HE M OREA, OR P ELOPONNESUS.
Geographically the Peloponnesus well deserves the name of island, which
was bestowed upon it by the ancients. The low Isthmus of Corinth
completely severs it from the mountainous peninsula of Greece. It is a
world in itself, small enough as far as the mere space is concerned which it
occupies upon the map, but great on account of the part it has played in the
history of humanity. {57}
On entering the Peloponnesus from the Isthmus of Corinth, we see rising
in front of us the mountain rampart of Oneium, which defended the
entrance of the peninsula, and upon one of whose promontories was built
the nearly impregnable citadel of Corinth. These mountains form part of the
general mountain system of the whole island, and, sheltered by them, its
inhabitants could live in security. The principal mountain mass, whence all
other chains radiate towards the entrances of the peninsula, is situated in the
interior of the country, about forty miles to the west of Corinth. There
Mount Cyllene of the ancient Greeks, or Zyria, rises into the air, its flanks
covered with dark pines; and farther away still, the Khelmos, or Aroanian
Mountain, attains even a more considerable height, its snows descending
into a valley on its northern slope, where they give rise to the river Styx, the
cold waters of which prove fatal to perjurers, and disappear in a narrow
chasm, one of the entrances to Hades. A range of wooded peaks, to the west
of the Khelmos, connects that mountain with the Olonos (Mount
Erymanthus), celebrated as the haunt of the savage boar destroyed by
Hercules. All those mountains, from Corinth as far as Patras, form a rampart
running parallel with the southern shore of the gulf, in the direction of
which they throw off spurs enclosing steep valleys. In one of these—that of
Buraikos—we meet with the grand caverns of Mega-Spileon, which are
used as a monastery, and where the most curious structures may be seen
built up on every vantage-ground offered by the rocks, suggesting a
resemblance to the cells of a vast nest of hornets.
The table-land of the Peloponnesus is thus bounded towards the north by
an elevated coast range. Another chain of the same kind bounds it on the

east. It likewise starts from Mount Cyllene, and extends southward, its
various portions being known as Gaurias, Malevo (Mount Artemisium), and
Parthenion. It is then broken through by a vast depression, but again rises
farther south as the range of Hagios Petros, or Parnon, to the east of Sparta.
Getting lower by degrees, it terminates in the promontory of Malea,
opposite to the island of Cerigo. It was this cape, tradition tells us, which
formed the last refuge of the Centaurs; that is to say, of the barbarian
ancestors of the modern Tsakonians. No promontory was more dreaded by
Greek navigators than this Cape Malea, owing to sudden gusts of wind, and
an ancient proverb says, “When thou hast doubled the cape forget the name
of thy native land.”
The mountains of Western Morea do not present the regularity of the
eastern chain. They are cut through by rivers, and to the south of the
Aroanian Mountains and the Erymanthus they ramify into a multitude of
minor chains, which now and then combine into mountain groups, and
impart the most varied aspect to that portion of the plateau. Everywhere in
the valleys we come unexpectedly upon landscapes to which an
indescribable charm is imparted by a group of trees, a spring, a flock of
sheep, or a shepherd sitting upon a heap of ruins. We are in beautiful
Arcadia, sung by the poets. Though in great part deprived of its woods, it is
still a beautiful country; but more charming still are the eastern slopes of the
plateau, which descend towards the Ionian Sea. There luxuriant forests and
{58} sparkling rivulets add an element of beauty to blue waves, distant
islands, and a transparent sky, which is wanting in nearly every other part of
maritime Greece.

Fig. 18.—M OUNT T AYGETUS.

The table-land of Arcadia is commanded on the west by pine-clad
Mænalus, and bounded on the south by several mountain groups which give
birth to separate mountain chains. One of these mountain masses—the
Kotylion, or Palæocastro—thus gives rise to the mountains of Messenia,
amongst which rises the famous Ithome, and to those of Ægaleus, which
spread over the peninsula to the west of the Gulf of Coron, and reappear in
the sea as the rocky islets of Sapienza, Cabrera, and Venetikon. Another
mountain mass, the Lycæus, or Diaforti—the Arcadian Olympus, which the
Pelasgians claim for their cradle—and which rises almost in the centre of

the Peloponnesus, is continued westward of Laconia by an extended
mountain chain, the most elevated and most characteristic of all the Morea.
The highest crest of these mountains is the famous Taygetus, known also as
Pentedactylum (five fingers), because of the five peaks which surmount it;
or as St. Elias, in honour, no doubt, of Helios, the Dorian sun-god. A portion
of the lower slopes of this mountain is clothed with forests of chestnuts and
walnuts. {59} interspersed with cypresses and oaks; but its crest is bare, and
snow remains upon it during three-fourths of the year. The snows of
Taygetus direct the distant mariner to the shores of Greece. On approaching
the coast, he sees rising above the blue waters the spurs and outlying ridges
of the Kakavuni, or “bad mountain.” Soon afterwards he comes in sight of
the promontory of Tainaron, with its two capes of Matapan and Grasso—
immense blocks of white marble more than six hundred feet in height, upon
which the quails settle in millions after their fatiguing journey across the
sea. Into the caverns at its foot the waters rush with a dull noise which the
ancients mistook for the barking of Cerberus. Cape Matapan, like Malea, is
dreaded amongst mariners as a great “destroyer of men.”
The three southern extremities of the Peloponnesus are thus occupied by
high mountains and rocky declivities. The peninsula of Argolis, in the east,
is likewise traversed by mountain ranges, which start from Mount Cyllene,
similarly to the Gaurias and the mountains of Arcadia. The whole of the
Peloponnesus is thus a country of table-lands and mountain ranges. If we
except the plains of Elis, which have been formed by the alluvial deposits
carried down by the rivers of Arcadia, and the lake basins of the interior,
which have been filled up in the course of ages, we meet with nothing but
16
mountains. The principal mountain masses—the Cyllene, the Taygetus,
and Parnon—are composed of crystalline schists and metamorphic marbles,
as in continental Greece. Strata of the Jurassic age and beds of cretaceous
limestone are here and there met with at the foot of these more ancient
rocks. Near the coast, in Argolis, and on the flanks of the Taygetus,
eruptions of serpentines and porphyries have taken place, whilst on the
north-eastern coast of Argolis, and especially on the small peninsula of
Methone, there exist recent volcanoes—amongst others, the Kaimenipetra,

which M. Fouqué identifies with the fire-vomiting mouths of Strabo, and
which had its last eruption twenty-one centuries ago. These volcanoes are,
no doubt, the vents of a submarine area of disturbance which extends
through Milos, Santorin, and Nisyros, to the south of the Ægean Sea.
The sulphur springs which abound on the western coast of the
Peloponnesus are, perhaps, likewise evidences of a reaction of the interior
of the earth.
It is the opinion of several geologists that the coasts of Western Greece
are being insensibly upheaved. In many places, and particularly at Corinth,
we meet with ancient caverns and sea beaches at an elevation of several feet
above the sea-level. It is this upheaval, and not merely the alluvial deposits
brought down by rivers, which explains the encroachment of the land upon
the sea at the mouth of the Achelous and on the coast of Elis, where four
rocky islets have been joined to the land. Elsewhere a subsidence of the
land has been noticed, as in the Gulf of {60} Marathonisi and on the eastern
coast of Greece, where the ancient peninsula of Elaphonisi has been
converted into an island. But even there the fluvial deposits have
encroached upon the sea. The city of Calamata is twice as distant from the
seashore now as in the days of Strabo, and the traces of the ancient haven of
Helos, on the coast of Laconia, are now far inland.

The limestone rocks of the interior of the Peloponnesus abound as much
in chasms, which swallow up the rivers, as do Bœotia and the western
portion of the whole of the Balkan peninsula. Some of these katavothras are
mere sieves, hidden beneath herbage and pebbles, but others are wide
chasms and caverns, through which the course of the underground waters
may be readily traced. In winter wild birds post themselves at the entrances
of these caverns, in expectation of the prey which the river is certain to
carry towards them; in summer, after the waters have retired, foxes and
jackals again take possession of their accustomed dens. The water
swallowed up by these chasms on the plateau reappears on the other side of
the mountains in the shape of springs, or kephalaria (kephalovrysis ). The
water of these springs has been purified by its passage through the earth,

and its temperature is that of the soil. It bursts forth sometimes from a
crevice in the rocks, sometimes in an alluvial plain, and sometimes even
from the bottom of the sea. The subterranean geography of Greece is not yet
sufficiently known to enable us to trace each of these kephalaria to the
katavothras which feed them.
Fig. 19.—L AKES P HENEA AND S TYMPHALUS. Μ
From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 500,000.

The ancients were most careful in keeping open these natural funnels, for,
by facilitating the passage of the water, they prevented the formation of
swamps. These precautions, however, were neglected during the centuries
of barbarism which overcame Greece, and the waters were permitted to
accumulate in many places at the expense of the salubrity of the country.
The plain of Pheneus, or Phonia, a vast chasm between the Aroanian
Mountains and the Cyllene, has thus repeatedly been converted into a lake.
In the middle of last century the whole of this basin {61} was filled with
water to a depth of more than 300 feet. In 1828, when this sheet of water
had already become considerably reduced, it was still 6 miles long and 150
feet in depth. At length, a few years afterwards, the subterranean sluices
opened, the waters disappeared, and there remained only two small marshes

near the places of exit. But in 1850 the lake was again 200 feet in depth.
Hercules, we are told, constructed a canal to drain this valley and to cleanse
its subterranean outlets, but the inhabitants content themselves now with
placing a grating above the “sink-holes,” to prevent the admission of trunks
of trees and of other large objects carried along by the floods.
To the east of the valley of Pheneus, and on the southern foot of Mount
Cyllene, there is another lake basin, celebrated in antiquity because of the
man-eating birds which infested it, until they were exterminated by
Hercules. This is the Stymphalus, alternately lake and cultivated land.
During winter the waters cover about one-third of the basin; but it happens
occasionally, after heavy rains, that the lake resumes its ancient dimensions.
There is only one katavothra through which the waters can escape, and this,
instead of being near the shore, as usual, is at the bottom of the lake. It
swallows up not only the water of the lake, but likewise the vegetable
remains carried into it, and the mud formed at its bottom; and this detritus is
conveyed through it to some subterranean cavity, where it putrefies slowly,
as may be judged from the fetid exhalations proceeding from the
katavothra. The water, however, is purified, and when it reappears on the
surface, close to the seashore, it is as clear as crystal.
There are many other lake basins of the same kind between the
mountains of Arcadia and the chain of the Gaurias. They all have their
swamps or temporary lakes, but the katavothras, in every instance, are
sufficiently numerous to prevent an inundation of the entire valley. The
most important of these lake basins is formed by the famous plain of
Mantinea, upon which many a battle was fought. From an hydrological
point of view this is one of the most curious places in the world; for the
waters which collect there are discharged into two opposite seas—the Gulf
of Nauplia on the east, and in the direction of the Alpheus and the Ionian
Sea towards the west. There may exist even some subterranean rivulet
which discharges itself, towards the south, into the Eurotas and the Gulf of
Laconia.
The disappearance of the waters underground has condemned to sterility
several parts of the Peloponnesus, which a little water would convert into

the most fertile regions of the globe. The surface waters quickly suck up
and form subterranean rivers, hidden from sight, which only see the light
again, in most instances, near the seashore, when it is impossible to utilise
them. The plain of Argos, though surrounded by a majestic amphitheatre of
well-watered hills, is more sterile and arid even than are Megara and Attica.
Its soil is always dry, and soaks up water like a sieve, which may have
given rise to the fable of the Danaids. But to the south of that plain, where
there is but a narrow cultivable strip of land between the mountains and the
seashore, a great river bursts forth from the rocks. This is the Erasinus.
Other springs burst forth at the southern extremity of the plain, close to
the defile {62} of Lerna, which, like that of the Erasinus, are supposed to be
fed from Lake Stymphalus. Close to them is a chasm filled with water, said
to be unfathomable. It abounds in tortoises, and venomous serpents inhabit
the adjoining marsh. These are the kephalaria , or “heads,” of the ancient
hydra of Lerna, which Hercules found it so difficult to seize hold of. Still
farther south there is another spring which rises from the bottom of the sea,
more than three hundred yards from the shore. This spring—the Doinæ of
the ancients, and Anavula of modern Greek mariners—is, in reality, but the
mouth of one of the rivers swallowed up by the katavothras of Mantinea.
When the sea is still it throws up a jet rising to a height of fifty feet.

Fig. 20.—T HE P LATEAU OF M ANTINEA. Μ
From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 400,000.

Analogous phenomena may be witnessed in the two southern valleys of
the peninsula, those of Sparta and Messenia. The Iri, or Eurotas, is, in
reality, but a large rivulet, which discharges itself into the Gulf of

Marathonisi, at the end of a gorge, {63} through which the waters of the
Lake of Sparta forced themselves a passage during some ancient deluge; but
it is only on rare occasions that its volume of water is sufficient to remove
the bar which obstructs its mouth. The Vasili-Potamo (“royal river”), on the
other hand, which bursts forth at the foot of a rock a short distance from the
Eurotas, though its whole course does not exceed five miles, discharges a
considerable volume of water throughout the year, and its mouth is at all
times open. As to the river of Messenia, the ancient Pamisus, now called
Pirnatza, it is the only river of Greece, besides the Alpheus, which forms a
harbour at its mouth, and it can be ascended by small vessels for a distance
of eight miles; but this advantage it owes exclusively to the powerful
springs of Hagios Floros, which are fed by the mountains on the east. These
springs, which form a large swamp where they rise to the surface, are the
real river, if volume of water is to be decisive, and the country watered and
fertilised by them was called the “Happy” by the ancients, on account of its
fertility.

Fig. 21.—B IFURCATION OF THE G ASTUNI. Μ
From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 400,000.

The western regions of the Peloponnesus receive more rain, and they are
likewise in the possession of the most considerable river, the Alpheus, now
called Ruphia, from one of its tributaries. The latter, the ancient Ladon,
conveys a larger volume of water towards the sea than the Alpheus. It was
as celebrated amongst the Greeks as was the Peneus of Thessaly, on account
of the transparency of its waters, and the smiling scenery along its banks. It
is partly fed by the snows of Mount Erymanthus, and, like most rivers of
the Morea, derives a portion of its waters from subterranean tributaries
rising on the central plateau. The Ladon thus receives the waters of Lake

Phenea, whilst the Alpheus proper {64} is fed in its upper course from
katavothras on the shores of the ancient lakes of Orchomenus and
Mantinea. Having traversed the basin of Megalopolis, anciently a lake, it
passes through a series of picturesque gorges, and reaches its lower valley.
A charming tradition, illustrative of the ties of amity which existed between
Elis and Syracuse, makes this river plunge beneath the sea and reappear in
Sicily, close to the fountain of his beloved Arethusa. The ancient Greeks,
who witnessed the disappearance of so many rivers, would hardly have
looked upon this submarine course of the Alpheus as a thing to wonder at.
The Alpheus and all other rivers of Elis carry down towards the sea
immense masses of detritus, which they spread over the plains extending
from the foot of the mountains to the seashore. The ruins of Olympia
disappeared in this manner beneath alluvial deposits. They have all
frequently changed their beds, and not one amongst them has done so more
frequently than the Peneus, or river of Gastuni. Anciently it discharged its
waters to the north of the rocky promontory of Chelonatas, whilst in the
present day it turns abruptly to the south, and enters the sea at a distance of
fifteen miles from its ancient mouth. Works of irrigation may partly account
for this change, but there can be no doubt that nature unaided has by
degrees much modified the aspect of this portion of Greece. Islands
originally far in the sea have been joined to the land; numerous open bays
have gradually been cut off from the sea by natural embankments, and
transformed into swamps or lagoons. One of the latter extends for several
leagues to the south of the Alpheus, and is divided from the sea by a fine
forest of pines. These majestic forests, in which the Triphylians paid honour
to their dead, the surrounding hills dotted over with clumps of trees, and
Mount Lycæus, from whose flanks are precipitated the cascades dedicated
to Neda, the nurse of Jupiter, render this the most attractive district of all the
Morea to a lover of nature.

The Peloponnesus presents us with one of the most striking instances of
the influence exercised by the nature of the country upon the historical
development of its inhabitants. Held to Greece by a mere thread, and

defended at its entrance by a double bulwark of mountains, this “isle of
Pelops” naturally became the seat of independent tribes at a time when
armies still recoiled from natural obstacles. The isthmus was open as a
commercial high-road, but it was closed against invaders.
The relief of the peninsula satisfactorily explains the distribution of the
tribes inhabiting it, and the part they played in history. The whole of the
interior basin, which has no visible outlets towards the sea, naturally
became the home of a tribe who, like the Arcadians, held no intercourse
with their neighbours, and hardly any amongst themselves. Corinth, Sicyon,
and Achaia occupied the seashore on the northern slopes of the mountains,
but were separated by high transversal chains. The inhabitants of these
isolated valleys long remained strangers to each other, and when at length
they combined to resist the invader, it was too late. Elis, in the west, with its
wide valleys and its insalubrious plains extending along a coast having no
havens, naturally played but a secondary part {65} in the history of the
peninsula. Its inhabitants, exposed to invasions, owing to their country
being without natural defences, would soon have been enslaved, had they
not placed themselves under the protection of all the rest of Greece by
converting their plain of Olympia into a place of meeting, where the
Hellenes of Europe and of Asia, from the continent and from the islands,
met for a few days’ festival to forget their rivalries and animosities. The
basin of Argos and the mountain peninsula of Argolis, on the eastern side of
the Peloponnesus, on the other hand, are districts having natural boundaries,
and are easily defended. Hence the Argolians were able to maintain their
autonomy for centuries, and even in the Homeric age they exercised a sort
of hegemony over the remainder of Greece. The Spartans were their
successors. The country in which they established themselves possessed the
double advantage of being secure against every attack, and of furnishing all
they stood in need of. Having firmly established themselves in the beautiful
valley of the Eurotas, they found no difficulty in extending their power to
the seashore, and to the unfortunate Helos. At a later date they crossed the
heights of the Taygetus, and descended into the plains of Messenia. That
portion of Greece likewise formed a natural basin, protected by elevated

mountain ramparts; and the Messenians, who were kinsmen of the Spartans
and their equals in bravery, were thus able to resist for a century. At length
they fell, and all the Southern Peloponnesus acknowledged the supremacy
of Sparta, which was now in a position to assert its authority over the whole
of Greece. Then it was that the mountain-girt plateau on the road from
Lacedæmonia to Corinth, upon which stood the cities of Tegea and
Mantinea, and which was made by nature for a field of Mars, became the
scene of strife.
The Peloponnesus, with its sinuous shores, forms a remarkable contrast
to Attica. Its characteristics are essentially those of a continent, and
anciently the Peloponnesians were mountaineers rather than mariners.
Except in Corinth, where the two seas nearly join, and a few towns of
Argolis, which is another Attica, there were no inducements for the
inhabitants to engage in maritime commerce; and in their mountain valleys
and upland plains they were entirely dependent upon the rearing of cattle
and husbandry. Arcadia, in the centre of the peninsula, was inhabited only
by herdsmen and labourers; and its name, which originally meant “country
of bears,” has become the general designation for an eminently pastoral
country. The Laconians also, separated from the sea by rocky mountains
which hem in the valley of the Eurotas at its point of issue, preserved for a
long time the customs of warriors and of cultivators of the soil, and took to
the sea only with reluctance. “When the Spartans placed Eurotas and
Taygetus at the head of their heroes,” says Edgar Quinet, “they distinctly
connected the features of the valley with the destinies of the people by
whom it was occupied.”
In the very earliest ages the Phœnicians already occupied important
factories on the coasts of the Peloponnesus. They had established
themselves at Nauplia, in the Gulf of Argos; and at Cranaæ, the modern
Marathonisi or Gythion, in Laconia, they purchased the shells which they
required to dye their purple {66} cloths. The Greeks themselves were in
possession of a few busy ports, amongst which was “sandy Pylos,” the
capital of Nestor, whose position is now held by Navarino, on the other side
of the gulf. At a subsequent date, when Greece had become the centre of

Me­di­ter­ra­nean commerce, Corinth, so favourably situated between the two
seas, rose into importance, not because of its political influence, its
cultivation of the arts, or love of liberty, but through the number and wealth
of its inhabitants. It is said that it had a population of three hundred
thousand souls within its walls. Even after it had been razed by the Romans
it again recovered its ancient pre-eminence. But the exposed position of the
town has caused it to be ravaged so many times that all commerce has fled
from it. In 1858, when an earthquake destroyed Corinth, that once famous
city had dwindled down into a poor village. The city has been rebuilt about
five miles from its ancient site, on the shore of the gulf named after it, but
we doubt whether it will ever resume its ancient importance unless a canal
be dug to connect the two seas. The high-roads from Marseilles and Trieste
to Smyrna and Constantinople would then lead across the Isthmus of
Corinth, and this canal might attract an amount of shipping equal to that
which frequents other ocean channels or canals similarly situated. But for
the present the isthmus is almost deserted, and only the passengers who are
conveyed by Greek steamers to the small ports on its opposite shores cross
it. The ancients, who had failed in the construction of a canal, and who
made no further effort after the time of Nero, because they imagined one of
the two seas to be at a higher level than the other, had provided, at all
events, a kind of tramway, by means of which their small vessels could be
17
conveyed from the Gulf of Corinth to the Ægean Sea.
After the Crusades, when the powerful Republic of Venice had gained a
footing upon the coasts of Morea, flourishing commercial colonies arose
along them, in Arcadia, on the island of Prodano (Prote), at Navarino,
Modon, Coron, Calamata, Malvoisie, and Nauplia in Argolis. At the call of
these Venetian merchants the Peloponnesus again became a seat of trade,
and resumed, to some extent, that part in maritime enterprise which it had
enjoyed in the time of the Phœnicians. But the advent of the Turk, the
impoverishment of the soil, and the civil wars which resulted therefrom,
again forced the inhabitants to break off all intercourse with the outer
world, and to shut themselves up in their island as in a prison. Tripolis, or
Tripolitza, in the very centre of the peninsula, and called thus, it is said,

because it is the representative of three ancient cities—Mantinea, Tegea,
and Pallantium—then became the most populous place. Since the Greeks
have regained their independence life again fluctuates towards the seashore
as by a sort of natural sequence. Patras, close to the entrance of the Gulf of
Corinth, and near the most fertile and best-cultivated plains on the eastern
shore, is by far the most important city at present, and, in anticipation of its
future extension, the streets of a new town have been laid out, in the firm
belief that it will some day rival Smyrna and Trieste in extent. {67}

Fig. 22.—T HE V ALLEY OF THE E UROTAS. Μ
From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 370,000.

The other towns of the peninsula, even those which exhibited the greatest
activity during the dominion of the Venetians, are but of very secondary

importance, if we compare them with this emporium of the Peloponnesus.
Ægium, or Vostitza, on the Gulf of Corinth, is a poor port, less celebrated
on account of its commerce than in consequence of a magnificent plane-
tree, more than fifty feet in girth, the hollow trunk of which was formerly
used as a prison. Pyrgos, close to the Alpheus, has no port at all. The fine
roadstead of Navarino, defended against winds and waves by the rocky islet
of Sphacteria, is but little frequented, and the merchantmen riding at anchor
there never outnumber the Turkish men-of-war at the bottom, where they
have lain since the battle fought in 1828. Modon and Coron have likewise
fallen off. Calamata, at the mouth of the fertile valleys of Messenia, has an
open roadstead only, and vessels cannot always ride in safety upon it. The
celebrated Malvoisie, now called Monemvasia, is hardly more than a heap
of ruins, and the vineyards in its neighbourhood, which furnished the
exquisite wine named after the town, have long ceased to exist. Nauplia,
which was the capital of the modern kingdom of Greece during the first few
years of its existence, possesses the advantage of a {68} well-sheltered port;
but its walls, its bastions, and its forts give it the character of a military
town rather than of a commercial one.
The towns in the interior of the country, whatever glories may attach to
them, are hardly more now than large villages. The most celebrated of all,
Sparta, thanks to the fertility of its environs, promises to become one of the
most prosperous cities of the interior of the Peloponnesus. Sparta—that is,
the “scattered city,”—was named thus because its houses were scattered
over the plain, defended only by the valour of their inhabitants, and not by
walls. In the Middle Ages Sparta was supplanted by the neighbouring
Mistra, whose decayed Gothic buildings and castles occupy a steep hill on
the western side of the Eurotas; but it has now recovered its supremacy
amongst the towns of Laconia. Argos, which is more ancient even than the
city of Lacedæmon, has likewise risen anew from its ruins; for the plain in
which it lies, though occasionally dried up, is of great natural fertility.
Strangers, however, who explore the countries of the Peloponnesus, do
not go in search of these newly risen cities, where a few stones only remind
them of the glories of the past, but are attracted by the ancient monuments

of art. In that respect Argolis is one of the richest provinces of Greece. Near
to Argos the seats of an amphitheatre are cut into the steep flanks of the hill
of Larissa. Between Argos and Nauplia a small rock rises in the middle of
the plain, which is surmounted by the ancient Acropolis of Tiryns, the
Cyclopean walls of which are more than fifty feet in thickness. A few miles
to the north of Argos are the ruins of Mycenæ, the city of Agamemnon,
where the celebrated “Gate of Lions,” coarsely sculptured when Greek art
first dawned, and the vast vaults known as the Treasury of the Atrides,
mainly attract the attention of visitors. These vaults are amongst the oldest
and best-preserved antiquities of Greece. They exhibit most solid
workmanship, and one of the stones, which does duty as a lintel over the
entrance-gate, weighs no less than one hundred and sixty-nine tons. At
Epidaurus, in Argolis, on the shores of the Gulf of Ægina, and close to the
most famous temple of Æsculapius, we still meet with a theatre which has
suffered less from time than any other throughout Greece. Shrubs,
interspersed with small trees, surround it; but we can still trace its fifty-four
rows of white marble seats, capable of affording accommodation to twelve
thousand spectators. Amongst other famous ruins of Argolis are the
beautiful remains of a temple of Jupiter at Nemea, and the seven Doric
columns of Corinth, said to be the oldest in all Greece. But the most
beautiful edifice of the peninsula must be sought for near Arcadian Phigalia,
in the charming valley of the Neda. This is the temple of Bassæ, erected by
Ictinus in honour of Apollo Epicurius, and its beauty is enhanced by the
oaks and rocks which surround it.
Citadels, however, are the buildings we most frequently meet with; and
many a fortified place, with its walls and acropolis, yet exists as in the days
of ancient Greece. The walls of Phigalia and Messenia still have their
ancient towers, gates, and redoubts. Other fortifications were utilised by the
Crusaders, Venetians, or Turks, and by them furnished with crenellated
walls and keeps, which add another picturesque feature to the landscape.
One of these ancient {69} fortresses, transformed during the Middle Ages,
rises at the very gates of the Peloponnesus—namely, the citadel of Corinth,
the strongest and most commanding of all.

Several of the islands of the Ægean Sea must be looked upon as natural
dependencies of the Peloponnesus, to which submarine ledges or shoals
attach them.
The islands along the coast of Argolis, which are inhabited by Albanian
seamen, who were amongst the foremost to fight the Turk during the
struggle for Hellenic independence, have lost much of their former
commercial importance. Poros, a small Albanian town on a volcanic island
of the same name, which the revolted people chose for their capital, is,
however, still a bustling place, for it has an excellent harbour, and the Greek
Government has made it the principal naval station of the kingdom. Hydra,
on the other hand, and the small island of Spezzia, next to it, have lost their
former importance. They are both rocky islands, without arable soil, trees,
or water, and yet they formerly supported a population of fifty thousand
souls. About 1730 a colony of Albanians, weary of the exactions of some
Turkish pasha on the mainland, fled to the island of Hydra. They were left
in peace there, for they agreed to pay a trifling tribute. Their commerce—
leavened, to be sure, with a little piracy—assumed large dimensions, and
immediately before the war of independence the Albanians of Hydra owned
nearly 400 vessels of 100 to 200 tons each, and they were able to send over
200 vessels, armed with 200 guns, against the Turks. By engaging so
enthusiastically in this struggle for liberty, the Hydriotes, without
suspecting it, wrought their own ruin. No sooner was the cause of Greece
triumphant than the commerce of Hydra was transferred to Syra and the
Piræus, which are more favourably situated.
Cythera of Laconia, a far larger island than either of those mentioned,
and better known by the Italian name of Cerigo, formed a member of the
Septinsular Republic, although not situated in the Ionian Sea, and clearly a
dependency of the Peloponnesus. Cythera is no longer the island of Venus,
and its voluptuous groves have disappeared. Seen from the north, it
resembles a pile of sterile rocks. It nevertheless yields abundant harvests,
possesses fine plantations of olive-trees, and populous villages. Cerigo, in
former times, enjoyed considerable importance, owing to its position

between the Ionian Sea and the Archipelago; but Cape Malea has lost its
terrors now, and the harbour of refuge on the island is no longer sought
after. Heaps of shells, left there by Phœnician manufacturers of purple, have
been found on the island; and it was the Phœnicians who introduced the
worship of Venus Astarte.

IV.—T HE I SLANDS OF THE Æ GEAN S EA.
Islands and islets are scattered in seeming disorder over the Ægean Sea, the
name of which may probably mean “sea of goats,” because these islands
appeared at a distance like goats. By a singular misapplication the modern
term {70} Archipelago, instead of sea, is now used to designate these groups
of islands. The Sporades, in the north, form a long range of islands
stretching in the direction of Mount Athos. The island of Scyros, farther
south, the birthplace of Achilles and place of exile of King Theseus,
occupies an isolated position; the large island of Eubœa extends along the
coast of the continent; and in the distance rise the white mountains of the
Cyclades, likened by the ancient Greeks to a circle of Oceanides dancing
around a deity.

Fig. 23.—E URIPUS AND C HALCIS. Μ
Scale 1 : 220,000.

All these islands are so many fragments of the mainland. This is proved
by their geological structure, or by shoals which attach them to the nearest
coast. The Northern Sporades are a branch of Mount Pelion. Eubœa is
traversed by limestone mountains of considerable height, running parallel to
the chains of Attica, Argolis, Mount Olympus, and Mount Athos. Scyros is

a rocky mountain mass, whose axis runs in the same direction as that of the
central chain of Eubœa. The summits of the Cyclades continue the ranges of
Eubœa and Attica towards the south-east, and the same micaceous and
argillaceous schists, limestones, and crystalline marbles are found in them.
They are, indeed, “mountains of Greece {71} scattered over the sea.” If
Athens may boast of the quarries of Mount Pentelicus, the Cyclades
produce the glittering marbles of Naxos, and the still more beautiful ones of
Paros, from which were chiselled the statues of heroes and of gods. Curious
caverns are met with in the limestone of the islands, especially that of
Antiparos, the existence of which was not known to the ancients, and the
Cave of Sillaka, on the island of Cythnos, or Thermia, celebrated for its hot
springs. Granite is found on some of the islands, and particularly in the
small island of Delos, dedicated to the worship of Apollo and Diana. In the
south, finally, the Cyclades are traversed by a chain of volcanic islands,
extending from the peninsula of Methana, in Argolis, to Cos and the shores
of Asia Minor.
Eubœa may be looked upon almost as a portion of the continent, for the
strait which separates it from the mainland resembles a submerged
longitudinal valley, and is nowhere of great depth or width. At its narrowest
part it is no more than two hundred and fourteen feet across, and from the
most remote times, Chalcis, the capital of the island, has been joined to the
mainland by a bridge. The irregular tidal currents flowing through this strait
were looked upon as marvellous by the Greeks, and Aristotle is said to have
flung himself into it because he was unable to explain this phenomenon.
The Italian name of the island, Negroponte, is formed by a series of
corruptions from Euripus, by which name the ancients knew the strait
between the island and the mainland. Eubœa has at all times shared in the
vicissitudes of the neighbouring provinces of Attica and Bœotia. When the
cities of Greece were at the height of their glory, those of Eubœa—Chalcis,
Eretria, and Cerinthus—enjoyed likewise a high degree of prosperity, and
dispatched colonies to all parts of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. Later on, when
invaders ravaged Attica, Eubœa shared the same fate, and at present it

participates in every political and social movement of the neighbouring
continent.
In Northern Eubœa there are forests of oaks, pines, elms, and plane-trees;
the villages are embedded in orchards; and the surrounding country
resembles what we have seen in Elis and Arcadia. But in the Cyclades we
look in vain for charming landscapes. Foliage and running water abound
only in a very few spots. Arid rocks, more arid even than those on the coast
of Greece, predominate, and only in a few favoured spots do we meet with
a few olive-trees, valonia oaks, pines, and fig-trees. Everywhere else the
hills are naked. And yet these islands arouse feelings of devotion in us, for
their names are great in history. The highest summits of most of them have
been named after the prophet Elias, the biblical successor of Apollo, the god
of the sun; and justly so, for the sun reigns supreme upon these austere
rocks, and his scorching rays destroy every vestige of vegetation.
Antimilos, one of the uninhabited islands of this group, still affords an
asylum to the wild goat (Capra Caucasica ), which has disappeared from
the remainder of Europe, and is met with only in Crete, and perhaps
Rhodes. Wild pigs likewise haunt the rocks of Antimilos. Rabbits were
introduced from the West, and abound in the caverns of some of the
Cyclades, and especially on Myconus and Delos. The ancient authors never
mention these animals. It is a curious fact that {72} hares and rabbits never
inhabit the same island, with the sole exception of Andros, where the hares
occupy the extreme north, whilst the rabbits have their burrows in the
southern portion of the island. As a curiosity, we may also mention that a
large species of lizard, called crocodile by the inhabitants, is found on the
islands, but not on the neighbouring continent, and we may conclude from
this that the Cyclades were separated from the Balkan peninsula at a very
remote period.

A chain of volcanic islands bounds the Cyclades towards the south,
where they are separated from Crete by an ocean trough of great depth.
Milos is the most important of these islands. It has an irregularly shaped
crater, which has been invaded by the sea, and forms there one of the safest

and most capacious harbours of refuge in the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. Milos has had
no eruption within historic times, but the existence of solfataras and of hot
springs proves that its volcanic forces are not yet quite extinct.
Fig. 24.—N EA K AMMENI. Μ
According to Danfalik.

The actual centre of volcanic activity has to be looked for in a small
group of islands known as Santorin, and lying midway between Europe and

Asia. These islands consist of marbles and schists, similar to those of the
other Cyclades, and they surround a vast crater no less than twelve hundred
and eighty feet in depth. The crescent-shaped island of Thera, on the east,
presents bold cliffs towards the crater, while its gentle outer slopes are
covered with vineyards producing exquisite wine. Therasia, on the west,
rises like an immense wall; and the islet of {73} Aspronisi, between the two,
indicates the existence of a submarine partition wall which separates the
crater from the open sea. The submarine volcano occupies the centre of this
basin. It remains quiescent for long periods, and then suddenly arousing
itself, it ejects immense masses of scoriæ. Nearly twenty-one centuries ago
the first island rose to the surface in the centre of this basin. This island is
known now as Palæa Kammeni, or the “old volcano.” Three years of
eruptions in the sixteenth century gave birth to the smallest of the three
islands, Mikra Kammeni. A third cone of lava, Nea Kammeni, rose in the
eighteenth century; and quite recently, between 1866 and 1870, this new
island has more than doubled its size, overwhelming the small village of
Volkario and its port, and extending to within a very short distance of Mikra
Kammeni. No less than half a million of partial eruptions occurred during
those five years, and the ashes were sometimes thrown to a height of four
thousand feet. Even from Crete clouds of ashes could be seen suspended in
the air, black during the day, and lit up by night.
Thousands of spectators hastened to Santorin from all quarters of the
world to witness these eruptions, and amongst them were several men of
science—Fouqué, Gorceix, Reiss, Stübel, and Schmidt—whose
observations have proved of great service. The crater of Santorin appears to
have been produced by a violent explosion which shattered the centre of the
18
ancient island, and covered its slopes with enormous masses of tufa.
Southern Eubœa and the vicinity of Port Gavrion, on the island of
Andros, are inhabited by Albanians, but the population in the remainder of
the Archipelago is Greek. The families of Italian or French descent on
Scyros, Syra, Naxos, and Santorin are not sufficiently numerous to
constitute an element of importance. They claim to be of French descent,
and are known in the Archipelago as Franks, and during the war of

independence they claimed the protection of the French Government. In
former times nearly the whole of the land was held by these Franks, who
had taken possession of it during the Middle Ages, and these large estates
are made to account for the sparse population of Naxos, which supported a
hundred thousand inhabitants formerly, but is now hardly able to support
one-seventh that number.
The Cyclades are farther removed from the coast of Greece than Eubœa,
and they have not always shared in the historical dramas enacted upon the
neighbouring continent. Their position in the centre of the Archipelago
naturally caused them to be visited by all the nations navigating the Me­di­‐
ter­ra­nean, and their inhabitants were thus subjected to the most diverse
influences. In ancient times the mariners of Asia Minor and of Phœnicia
called at the Cyclades on their voyages to Greece; during the Middle Ages
the Byzantines, the Crusaders, the Venetians, the Genoese, the Knights of
Rhodes, and the Osmanli were masters {74} there in turn; and in our own
days the nations of Western Europe, with the Greeks themselves, hold the
preponderance in the Archipelago.
These historical vicissitudes have caused the centre of gravity of the
Cyclades to be shifted from island to island. In the time of the ancient
Greeks, Delos, the island of Apollo, was looked upon as the “holy land,”
where merchants congregated from all quarters, carried on business in the
shadow of sanctuaries, and held slave markets at the side of the temples.
The sale of human flesh became in the end the main feature of the
commerce of Delos, and in the time of the Roman emperors as many as ten
thousand slaves were bartered away there in a single day. But the markets,
the temples, and monuments of Delos have vanished, and its stony soil
supports now only a few sheep. During the Middle Ages Naxos enjoyed the
predominance; and at present, Tinos, with its venerated church of the
Panagia and its thousands of pilgrims, is the “holy land” of the Archipelago;
whilst Hermopolis, on Syra, though without trees or water, holds the
position of commercial metropolis of the Cyclades. The latter was a town of
no importance before the war of independence; but it remained neutral
during that struggle, and thus attracted numerous refugees from other

islands, and, thanks to its central position, it has since become the principal
mart, dockyard, and naval station of the Ægean Sea. Whether travellers
proceed to Saloniki, Smyrna, Constantinople, or the Black Sea, they must
stop at Hermopolis. The town formerly occupied the heights only, for fear
of pirates, but it has descended now to the foot of the hill, and its quays and
warehouses extend along the seashore.
Commerce has peopled the naked rocks of Syra, but it has not yet
succeeded in developing the resources of the Archipelago as in ancient
times. Eubœa is no longer “rich in cattle,” as its name implies, and only
exports corn, wine, fruit, and the lignite extracted from the mines near
Kumi. The gardens of Naxos yield oranges, lemons, and citrons; Scopelos,
Andros, and Tinos, the latter one of the best cultivated amongst the islands,
export wines, which are excelled, however, by those of Santorin, the
Calliste of the earliest Greeks. The volcanic and other islands of the
Cyclades export millstones, china clay, lavas, and cimolite, this being used
in bleaching. Naxos exports emery, and that is all. The marbles of Paros
even remain untouched, and the excellent harbour of that island only rarely
sees a vessel. The inhabitants of the Cyclades confine themselves to the
cultivation of the soil, and to the breeding of a few silkworms, the surplus
population of Tinos, Siphnos, and others emigrating annually to
Constantinople, Smyrna, or Greece, to work as labourers, cooks, potters,
masons, or sculptors. But whilst some of the islands can boast of a surplus
population, there are others which are the abode of a few herdsmen only.
Most of the islands between Naxos and Amorgos are hardly more than
barren rocks. Antimilos, like Delos, is merely a pasture-ground sown over
with rocks. Seriphos and Giura are still dreary solitudes, as in the time of
the Roman emperors, when they were set aside as places of exile. Seriphos,
however, possesses iron of excellent quality, and may, in consequence,
again become of some importance. On Antiparos there are lead mines. {75}

V.—T HE I ONIAN I SLES.
The island of Corfu, on the coast of Epirus, and the whole of the
Archipelago to the west of continental and peninsular Greece, down to the
island of Cythera, which divides the waters of the Ionian Sea from those of
the Ægean, have passed through the most singular political vicissitudes in
the course of the last century. Corfu, thanks to the protection extended to it
by the Venetian Republic, is the only dependency of the Balkan peninsula
which successfully resisted the assaults of the Turk. When Venice was
handed over to the Austrians by Bonaparte in 1797, Corfu and the Ionian
Islands were occupied by the French. A few years afterwards the Russians
became the virtual masters in these islands, which they formed into a sort of
aristocratic republic under the suzerainty of the Porte. In 1807 the French
once more took possession of them; but the English captured one after the
other until there remained to them only Corfu, and this, too, had to be given
up in 1814. The Ionian Islands were then converted into a “Septinsular
Republic,” governed by the landed aristocracy, supported by British
bayonets. Twice did England alter the constitution of this republic in a
democratic sense, but the patriotism of the islanders refused to submit to
British suzerainty; and, when Great Britain parted with her conquest, the
Ionian Islands annexed themselves to Greece, and they now form the best
educated, the wealthiest, and the most industrious portion of that kingdom.
England, no doubt, consulted her own interests when she set free her Ionian
subjects; but her action is nevertheless deserving of approbation. England
exhibited her faith in the axiom that moral influence is superior to brute
force, and yielded with perfect good grace, not only the commercial ports of
the islands, but likewise the citadel of Corfu, which gave her the command
of the Adriatic. This magnanimous policy has not hitherto met with
imitators in other countries, but England herself has still many opportunities
of applying it in other parts of the world.
Corfu, the ancient Corcyra, has always held the foremost place amongst
the Ionian Islands. It owes this position to the vicinity of Italy, and to the
commercial advantages derived from an excellent port and a vast roadstead

almost resembling an inland lake. The inhabitants are fond of appealing to
Thucydides in order to prove that Corfu is the island of the Phæaces of
Ulysses. They even pretend to have discovered the rivulet in which
beauteous Nausicaa washed the linen of her father, and the shaded walks
near the city are known by them as the gardens of Alcinous. Corfu is the
only one of the islands which can boast of a small perennial stream, the
Messongi, which is navigable for a short distance in barges. The hills,
which are placed like a screen in front of the plains of the Epirus, are
exposed to the full force of the south-westerly winds, which bring much
rain; the vegetation, consequently, is rich: orange and lemon trees form
fragrant groves around the city, vines and olive-trees hide the barren ground
of the hills, and waving fields of corn cover the plains. Corfu, unfortunately,
is exposed to the hot sirocco, blowing from the south-east, and this very
much curtails its advantages as a winter station for invalids. {76}
The city occupies a triangular peninsula opposite the coast of the Epirus,
and is the largest, and commercially the most important, of the former
republic. It is strongly fortified, and its successive possessors—Venetians,
French, Russians, and English—have sought to render it impregnable. A
beautiful prospect may be enjoyed from its bastions; but far superior is that
from Mount Pantokratoros, the “commandant,” for it extends across the
Strait of Otranto to Italy. The commercial relations with the latter, as well as
the traditions of Venetian dominion, have converted Corfu into a city almost
half Italian, and numerous families residing in it belong to both nations, the
Greek and the Italian, by descent as well as language. Italian remained the
official language of the island until 1830. Maltese porters and gardeners
constitute a prominent element amongst the cosmopolitan population of the
city.

Fig. 25.—C ORFU.

Corfu formerly owned the town of Butrinto and a few villages on the
mainland; but an English governor thought fit to surrender them to the
terrible Ali Pasha, {77} and the only dependencies of Corfu at present are the
small islets near it, viz. Othonus (Fano), Salmastraci, and Ericusa, in the
north; Paxos, with its caverns, and Antipaxos, the rocks of which exude
asphalt, on the south. Paxos is said to produce the best oil in Western
Greece.

Leucadia, Cephalonia, Ithaca, Zante, and a few smaller islands, form a
crescent-shaped archipelago off the entrance to the Gulf of Patras. They are
the summits of a half-submerged chain of calcareous mountains, alternately
flooded by the rains or scorched by the sun. Their valleys, like those of
Corfu, produce oranges, lemons, currants (“Corinthians”), wine, and oil,
which form the objects of a brisk commerce. The inhabitants very much
resemble those of Corfu, the Italian element being strongly represented,
except on Ithaca.

Fig. 26.—T HE C HANNEL OF S ANTA M AURA. Μ
From the French Staff Map. Scale 1 : 200,000.

Leucadia, or the “white island,” thus called because of its glittering chalk
cliffs, is evidently a dependency of the continent. The ancients looked upon
it as a peninsula converted into an island by Corinthian colonists, who cut a
canal through the isthmus which joined it to the mainland; but this legend is
not borne out by an examination of the locality. These Corinthians probably
merely dug a navigable channel through the shallow lagoon which separates
the island from the coast, and does not exceed eighteen inches in depth. In
fact, if there were any tides in the Ionian Sea, the island of Leucadia would
be converted twice daily into a peninsula. A bridge, of which there still exist
considerable remains, formerly joined the island to the mainland near the
southern extremity of the lagoon, whilst an island occupied by the citadel of
Santa Maura—a name sometimes applied to the whole of the island—
defended its entrance to the north. {78} Until recently this was the only spot
in Western Greece where a grove of date-trees might be seen. A magnificent
aqueduct of two hundred and sixty arches, which was also used as a
viaduct, joined the citadel to Amaxiki, the chief town and harbour of
Leucadia. This monument of Turkish enterprise—it was constructed in the
reign of Bajazet—has sustained much injury from earthquakes. Amaxiki
might be supposed to be haunted by fever, owing to the salt swamps and
lagoons which surround it; but such is not the case: on the contrary, it is a
comparatively healthy town, and its women are noted for freshness of
complexion and beauty. To the south of it rise the wooded mountains which
terminate in the promontory of Leucate (Dukato), opposite to Cephalonia.
On the summit of this promontory stood a temple of Apollo, whence, at the
annual festival of the god, a condemned criminal was hurled as an expiatory
victim. It was celebrated, also, as the lover’s leap, whence lovers leaped
into the sea to drown their passion.
Cephalonia, or rather Cephallenia, is the largest of the Ionian Islands, and
its highest summit—Mount Ænus, or Elato—is the culminating point of the
entire Archipelago. Mariners from the centre of the Ionian Sea can see at
one and the same time Mount Ætna in Sicily and this mountain of
Cephalonia. The forests of conifers, to which the latter is indebted for its
Italian name of Montenero, have for the greater part been destroyed by fire,

but there still remain a few clumps of magnificent firs. On its summit may
be seen the remains of a temple of Jupiter. The island is fertile and
populous, but suffers much from want of water. All its rivers dry up in
summer, the calcareous soil sucking up the rain, and most of the springs rise
from the bottom of the sea, far away from the fields thirsting after water. On
the other hand, two considerable streams of sea-water find their way into
the bowels of the island.
This curious phenomenon occurs a short distance to the north of
Argostoli, a bustling town, having a safe but shallow harbour. The two
oceanic rivers are sufficiently powerful to set in motion the huge wheels of
two mills, one of which has been regularly at work since 1835, and the
other since 1859. Their combined discharge amounts to 35,000,000 gallons
daily, and naturalists have not yet decided whether they form a vast
subterranean lake, in which beds of salt are constantly being deposited, or
whether they find their way through numerous threads, and, by hydrostatic
aspiration, into the subterranean rivers of the island, rendering their water
brackish. The latter is the opinion of Wiebel, the geologist, and thus much
we may assume for certain—that these subterranean waters and caverns are
one of the principal causes of the severe earthquakes which visit Cephalonia
so frequently. The island of Asteris, between Cephalonia and Ithaca, upon
which stood the city of Alalkomenæ, exists no longer, and was probably
destroyed by one of those earthquakes.
Ithaca of “divine Ulysses,” the modern Theaki, is separated from
Cephalonia by the narrow channel of Viscardo, thus named after Robert
Guiscard. The island is small, and all the sites referred to in the Odyssey are
still pointed out there, from the spring of Arethusa to the acropolis of
Ulysses; but the black forests which clothed the slopes of Mount Neritus
have disappeared. The inhabitants are {79} excessively proud of their little
island, rendered so famous by the poetry of Homer, and in every family we
meet with a Penelope, a Ulysses, and a Telemachus. But the present
inhabitants have no claim whatever to be the descendants of the crafty son
of Laertes, for during the Middle Ages their ancestors were exterminated by
invaders, and in 1504 the deserted fields were given, by the Senate of

Venice, to colonists drawn from the mainland. Most of those immigrants
came from the Epirus, and the dialect spoken by the islanders is much
mixed with Albanian words. At the present time the island is well
cultivated, and Vathy, its chief port, carries on a brisk commerce in raisins,
currants, oil, and wine. Ithaca, as in the days of Homer, is the “nurse of
valiant men.” The inhabitants are tall and strong, and Dr. Schliemann is
enthusiastic about the high standard of virtue and morality prevailing
amongst them. There are neither rich nor poor, but they are great travellers,
and natives of Ithaca are met with in every populous city of the East.

Fig. 27.—A RGOSTOLI. Μ
According to Wiebel. Scale 1 : 78,000.

“Zante, fior del Levante,” say the Italians. And, indeed, this ancient
island, Zacynthus, is richer in orchards, fields, and villas than any other of
this Archipelago. An extensive plain, bounded by ranges of hills, occupies
the centre of this “golden isle”—a vast garden, abounding in vines, yielding
currants of superior quality. The inhabitants are industrious, and not content
with cultivating their own fields, they assist also in the cultivation of those
of Acarnania, receiving wages or a share of the produce in return. The city
of Zante, on the eastern coast of the island, facing Elis, is the wealthiest and
cleanest town in the Archipelago. {80} Unfortunately it suffers frequently
from earthquakes, to which a volcanic origin is ascribed. Nor is this
improbable, for bituminous springs rise near the south-eastern cape of the
island, and though worked since the days of Herodotus, they still yield
about a hundred barrels of pitch annually. Oil springs discharge themselves
close to the shore, and even at the bottom of the sea; and near Cape Skinari,
in the north, a kind of rank grease floats on the surface of the waters.
The only islets dependent upon Zante are the Strivali, or the Strophades,
19
to which flew the hideous harpies of ancient mythology.

VI.—T HE P RESENT AND THE F UTURE OF G REECE.
The Greeks, although they have not altogether fulfilled the expectations of
Philhellenes, have nevertheless made great strides in advance since they
have thrown off the yoke of the Turks. The deeds of valour performed
during the war of independence recalled the days of Marathon and Platæa;
but it was wrong to expect that a short time would suffice to raise modern
Greece to the intellectual and artistic level of the generation which gave
birth to an Aristotle and a Phidias. Nor can we expect that a nation should
throw off, in a single generation, the evil habits engendered during an age
of servitude, and digest at once the scientific conquests made in the course
of twenty centuries. We should likewise bear in mind that the population of
Greece is small, and that it is thinly scattered over a barren mountain
region. The numerous ports, no doubt, offer great facilities for commerce,
nor have their inhabitants failed to avail themselves of them; but there is
hardly a country in Europe which offers equal obstacles to a development of
its agricultural and industrial resources. The construction of roads, owing to
the mountains, meets with difficulties everywhere, whilst the blue sea
invites its beholders to distant climes and commercial expeditions. No
immigration from the neighbouring Turkish provinces has consequently
taken place, whilst many Hellenes, and more especially natives of the
Ionian Islands and the Cyclades, annually seek their fortune in
Constantinople, Cairo, and even distant India. Men of enterprise leave the
country, and there remains behind only a horde of intriguers, who look upon
politics as a lucrative business, and an army of government officials, who
depend upon the favour of a minister for future promotion. This state of
affairs explains the singular fact that the most prosperous Greek
communities exist beyond the borders of the kingdom of Greece. These
foreign communities are better and more liberally governed than those at
home. In spite of the Pasha, who enjoys the right of supervision, the
administration of the smallest Greek {81} community in Thracia or
Macedonia might serve as a pattern to the independent and sovereign
kingdom of Greece. Every one there takes an interest in the prosperity of

the commonwealth; but in Greece a rapacious bureaucracy takes care only
of its own advancement, the electors are bribed, and the expenses thus
illegally incurred are recovered by illegal exactions and robbery, such as
have prevailed for many years.
The actual population of Greece may amount to 1,500,000 souls; that is
to say, it includes about two-fifths of all the Greeks residing in Europe and
Asia. The population is less dense than in any other country of Europe,
including Turkey. Greece, at the epoch of its greatest prosperity, is said to
have supported 6,000,000 or 7,000,000 inhabitants. Attica was ten times
more populous at that time, and many islands which now support only a
few herdsmen could then boast of populous towns. Sites of ancient cities
abound on the barren plateaux, on the banks of the smallest rivulet, and
crown every promontory throughout the ancient countries of the Hellenes,
from Cyprus to Corfu, and from Thasos to Crete.
The country, however, is being gradually repeopled. Before the war of
independence, the population, including the Ionian Islands, amounted,
perhaps, to 1,000,000; but battles and massacres diminished it considerably,
and in 1832 the number of inhabitants was 950,000 at most. Since that
epoch there has been an annual increase varying between 9,000 and 14,000
souls. This increase, however, is spread very unequally over the country.
The towns increase rapidly, but several islands, and more especially Andros,
Santorin, Hydra, Zante, and Leucadia, lose more inhabitants by emigration
than they gain by an excess of births over deaths. The swamp fevers
prevailing in continental Greece much retard the increase of population.
Naturally the climate is exceedingly salubrious, but the water, in many
localities, has been permitted to collect into pestilential swamps, and the
draining of these and their cultivation would not only add to the wealth of
20
the country, but would likewise free it from a dire plague.
Unfortunately agriculture progresses but slowly in Greece, and its
produce is not even sufficient to support the population, still less to supply
articles for export. And yet the cultivable soil of Greece is admirably suited
to the growth of vines, fruits, cotton, tobacco, and madder. Figs and oranges
are delicious; the wines of Santorin and the Cyclades are amongst the finest

produced in the Me­di­ter­ra­nean; the oil of Attica is as superior now as when
Athene planted the sacred olive-tree; {82} but, excepting a little cotton
grown in Phthiotis, and the raisins known as currants or Corinthians, which
are exported from the Ionian Islands and Patras to the annual value of about
£1,500,000, agriculture contributes but little towards the exports. One of the
principal articles is the valonia, a species of acorn picked up in the forests,
and used by tanners.
In a country so far behindhand in agriculture manufactures cannot be
expected to flourish. All manufactured articles have consequently to be
imported from abroad, and especially from England. Greece does not even
possess tools to work its famous marble quarries, though they are richer
than those of Carrara. There is only one metallurgical establishment in the
whole of the kingdom—that of Laurion. The ancients had been working
argentiferous lead mines in that part of the country for centuries, and vast
masses of unexhausted slag had accumulated near them. This waste is now
being scientifically treated in the smelting-works of Ergastiria, and nearly
ten thousand tons of lead, and a considerable quantity of silver, are
produced there annually. Quite a brisk little town has arisen near the works,
and its harbour is one of the busiest in all Greece. But the founders of this
flourishing concern had to struggle against jealousies, and the “Laurion
question” nearly embroiled the Governments of France and Italy with
21
Greece.
The Greeks do not support themselves by agriculture, nor can they boast
of manufactories, and they would be doomed to starvation if they did not
maintain six thousand vessels acting in the lucrative business of ocean
carriers throughout the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. This Greek mercantile marine is
superior to that of Russia, almost equal to that of Austria, and six times
larger than that of Belgium, and we should bear in mind that many vessels
sailing under Turkish colours are actually owned by Greeks. The ancient
instinct of the race comes out strongly in this coast navigation. The large
fleets of swift ocean steamers belong to the powerful companies of the
West, and the Greeks are content to sail in small vessels suited to the
requirements of the coasting trade, which hardly ever extend their voyages

beyond the limits of the ancient Greek world. None can compete with them
as regards low freight, for every sailor has an interest in the cargo, and all of
them are anxious to increase the profits. One may have furnished the wood,
another the rigging, a third a portion of the cargo, whilst their fellow-
citizens have advanced money for the purchase of merchandise, without
requiring any bond except their word of honour. On many of these vessels
all are partners, all work alike, and share in the proceeds of the venture.
But, whatever the sobriety and intelligence of these Greek mariners, they
cannot escape the fate which has overtaken the small trader and the
handicraftsman throughout the world. The cheap vessels of the Greeks may
be able to contend for a long time against the steamers of powerful
companies, but in the end they must succumb. The country will lose its
place amongst the commercial nations of the world unless its agricultural
and industrial resources are quickly developed, {83} and railways are
constructed to convey the products of the interior to the sea-coast. Greece,
even now, has only a few carriage roads, not so much because the
mountains offer insurmountable obstacles, but because its heedless
inhabitants are content with the facilities for transport offered by the sea. It
would be impossible in our day to travel from the Pylos to Lacedæmon in a
chariot, as was done by Telemachus; for the road connecting these places
leads along precipices and over dangerous goat paths. Greece and Servia
are the European states which remained longest without a railway, and even
now the former is content with a short line connecting Athens with its
harbour. It has certainly been proposed to construct several lines of the
utmost importance, but, owing to the bankrupt condition of the Greek
exchequer, these works have not yet been begun. The public income is not
sufficient to meet the expenditure, the debt exceeds £15,000,000, and the
22
interest on the loans remains unpaid.
The poverty of the majority of the inhabitants of Greece is equal to that
of the State. The peasants are impoverished by the payment of tithes, and of
a Government impost double or even treble their amount. Though naturally
very temperate, they are hardly able to sustain life; they dwell in
unwholesome dens, and are frequently unable to put by sufficient means for

the purchase of clothing and other necessaries. The young men of the
poorest districts of Greece thus find themselves forced to emigrate in large
numbers, either for a season or for an indefinite period. Arcadia may be
likened in this respect to Auvergne, to Savoy, and to other mountain
countries of Central Europe. The Ætolians, however, exchange their fine
savage valleys for foreign cities only very reluctantly, though they, too,
suffer intensely from the weight of taxation. In ancient times, before their
spirit was broken by servitude, they would have resisted the tax-gatherer
with arms in their hands. They now content themselves with sallying forth
from their villages, in order to pile up a heap of stones by the side of the
high-road, as a testimony of the injustice with which they have been treated.
This heap of stones is anathema . Every peasant passing it religiously adds a
stone to this mute monument of execration, and the earth, the common
mother of all, is thus charged with the task of vengeance.
Ignorance, the usual attendant of poverty, is great in the rural districts of
Greece, and especially in those difficult of access. In Greece, as in Albania
and Montenegro, they believe in perfidious nymphs, who secure the
affections of young men, and then drag them down below the water; they
believe in vampyres, in the evil eye and witchcraft. But the Greeks are an
inquiring race, anxious to learn, in spite of their poverty. The peasant of
Ithaca will stop a traveller of education on the road, in order that he may
read to him the poetry of Homer. Elementary schools have been established
in nearly every village, in spite of the poverty of the Government. If no
school buildings can be secured, the classes meet in the open air. The
scholars, far from playing truant, hardly raise their eyes from the books to
notice a passing stranger or the flight of a bird. The scholars in the superior
schools and at the University of Athens are equally {84} conscientious and
assiduous. It may be that some of them merely aspire to become orators, but
they certainly do not resort to a city on the pretence of study, whilst in
reality they yield themselves up to debauchery. Amongst the students of the
University of Athens there are many who work half the night at some
handicraft, others who hire themselves out as servants or coachmen, to
enable them to pursue their studies as lawyers or physicians.

This love of study cannot fail to secure to the Greek nation an intellectual
influence far greater than could be looked for from the smallness of its
numbers. The Greeks of the East, moreover, look upon Athens as their
intellectual centre, whither they send their sons in pursuit of knowledge.
They found scholarships in connection with the schools of Athens, and
largely contribute towards their support. And it is not only the rich Greek
merchants of Trieste, Saloniki, Smyrna, Marseilles, and London who are
thus mindful of the true interests of their native country, but peasants of
Thracia and Macedonia, too, devote their savings to the promotion of public
education. The people themselves support their schools and museums, and
pay their professors. The Academy of Athens, the Polytechnic School, the
University, and the Arsakeion, an excellent ladies’ college—these all owe
their existence to the zeal of Greek citizens, and not to the Government. It
may readily be understood from this how carefully these institutions are
being watched by the entire nation, and how salutary must be the influence
of young men and women returning to their native provinces after they have
been educated at them.
It is thus a common language, common traditions, and a common hope
for the future that have made a nation of the Greeks in spite of treaties.
Greek patriotism is not confined to the narrow limits laid down by
diplomacy. Whether they reside in Greece proper, in European or Asiatic
Turkey, the Greeks feel as one people, and they lead a common national life
independently of the Governments of Constantinople and Athens. Nay,
amongst the Greeks dwelling in foreign lands this feeling of nationality is,
perhaps, most intense, for they are not exposed to the corrupting influence
of a bureaucracy. They have more carefully guarded the traditions and
practices of municipal government, and are practically in the enjoyment of
greater individual liberty. The Greek nation, in its entirety, numbers close
upon 4,000,000 souls. Its power, already considerable, is growing from day
to day, and is sure to exercise a potent influence upon the destinies of Me­di­‐
ter­ra­nean Europe.
We are told sometimes that community of religion might induce the
Greeks to favour Russian ambition, and to open to that power the road to

Constantinople. Nothing can be further from the truth. The Hellenes will
never sacrifice their own interests to those of the foreigner. Nor do there
exist between Greece and Russia those natural ties which alone give birth to
true alliances. Climate, geographical position, history, commerce, and,
above all, a common civilisation, attach Greece to that group of European
nations known as Greco-Latin. In tripartite Europe the Greeks will never
range themselves by the side of the Slav, but will be found amongst the
Latin nations of Italy, France, and Spain.
TURKEY IN EUROPE and GREECE Μ
By E. G. Ravenstein, F.R.G.S. Scale 1 : 5,000,000.

{85}

VII.—G OVERNMENT AND P OLITICAL D IVISIONS.
The protecting powers have bestowed upon Greece a parliamentary and
constitutional Government, modelled upon West European patterns.
Theoretically the King of the Greeks reigns, but does not govern, and his
ministers are responsible to the Chambers, whose majority changes with the
fluctuations of public opinion. In reality, however, the power of the King is
limited only by diplomacy. Nor do those Western institutions respond to the
traditions and the genius of the Greeks, and although the charter has been
modified three times since the declaration of independence, it has never
been strictly adhered to.
In accordance with the constitution of 1864, every Greek citizen
possessing any property whatever, or exercising a profession, has a right to
vote on attaining his twenty-fifth year, and becomes eligible as a deputy at
thirty. The deputies, one hundred and eighty-seven in number, are elected
for four years, and are paid for their services. The civil list of the King,
inclusive of a subvention granted by the protecting powers, amounts to
£46,000 a year.
The orthodox Greek Church of Hellas is independent of the Patriarch of
Constantinople. It is governed by a Holy Synod, sitting in the capital, and
presided over by an archbishop as metropolitan. A royal commissioner is
present at the meetings of the Synod, and countersigns every proposition
that is carried. Decisions not bearing this official signature are void. The
King, on the other hand, is permitted to dethrone or remove a bishop only
by consent of the Synod, and in accordance with the canon law. The
constitution guarantees religious liberty, but this official Church
nevertheless exercises considerable powers, and frequently calls upon the
civil authorities to give force to its decrees. The Synod carefully watches
over the observance of religious dogmas; it points out to the authorities
heretical or heterodox preachers and writers, and demands their
suppression; exercises a censorship over books and religious pictures; and
calls upon the civil tribunals to punish offenders.

There are no longer any Mo­ham­me­dans in Greece, except sailors or
travellers, and the last Turk has quitted Eubœa. The only Church besides the
established one which can boast a considerable number of adherents is the
Roman Catholic. It prevails amongst the middle classes on Naxos, and on
several others of the Cyclades, and is governed by two archbishops and four
bishops.
Greece is divided into thirteen nomes, or nomarchies, and these, again,
into fifty-nine eparchies. Each eparchy is subdivided into districts, or dimes
(dimarchies), and the latter into parishes, governed by paredres, or assistant
dimarchs. These officials are appointed by the King, and are in receipt of
small emoluments. The number of officials is proportionately greater in
Greece than in any other part of Europe. They form the sixtieth part, or,
including their families, the twelfth part of the population, and although
their pay is small, they swallow up between them more than half the public
income. {86}
The thirteen nomes and fifty-nine eparchies of Greece, with their
population in 1870:―

Eparchies. Population.
Mantinea 46,174
Kynuria 26,733
Gartynia 41,408
Megalopolis 17,425
Arkadia 131,740

Lakedæmon 46,423
Gythion 13,957
Itylos (Œtylos) 26,540
Epidauros Limera 18,931
Lakonia 105,851

Kalamæ 25,029
Messini 29,529
Pylia 20,946
Triphylia 29,041
Olympia 25,872
Messenia 130,417

Nauplia 15,022
Argos 22,138
Korinthia 42,803
Spetsæ and Hermionis 19,919
Hydra and Trizinia 17,301
Kythyra 10,637
Argolis and Korinthia 127,820

Syros 30,643
Koa 8,687
Andros 19,674
Tinos 11,022
Naxos 20,582
Thira (Thera, Santorin) 21,901
Milos 10,784
Kyklades 123,293

Attiki 76,919
Ægina 6,103
Megaris 14,949
Thiva (Thebæ) 20,711

Livadia 18,122
Attiki and Viotia (Bœotia) 136,804

Khalkis 29,013
Xerochorion 11,215
Karystia 33,936
Skopelos 8,377
Euvia (Eubœa) 82,541

Phthiotis 26,747
Parnasis 20,368
Lokris 20,187
Doris 49,119
Phthiotis and Phokis 106,421

Mesolongion (Missolonghi) 18,997
Valtos 14,027
Trichonia 14,453
Evrytania 33,018
Navpaktia 22,219
Vonitza and Xeromeros 18,979
Akarnania and Ætolia 121,693

Patras 46,527
Ægialia 12,764
Kalavryta 39,204
Ilia (Elis) 51,066
Achaia and Ilis (Elis) 149,561

Kerkyra (Corfu) 25,729

Mesi 21,754
Oros 24,983
Paxi (Paxos) 3,582
Leucas (Santa Maura) 20,892
Kerkyra (Corfu) 96,940

Kranæa 33,358
Pali 17,377
Sami 16,774
Itaki 9,873
Kephallinia 77,382

Zakynthos (Zante) 44,557
The mo­dern no­men­cla­ture has been adop­ted in the above ta­ble.

T URKE Y I N E UROP E . *

I.—G ENERAL A SPECTS.
HE Balkan peninsula is, perhaps, that amongst the three great
peninsulas of Southern Europe which enjoys the greatest
natural advantages, and occupies the most favourable
geographical position. In its outline it is far less unwieldy than
Spain, and even surpasses Italy in variety of contour. Its coasts
are washed by four seas; they abound in gulfs, harbours, and peninsulas,
and are fringed by numerous islands. Several of its valleys and plains vie in
fertility with the banks of the Guadalquivir and the plains of Lombardy. The
floras of two climes intermingle on its soil, and add their charms to the
landscape. The mountains of Turkey do not yield to those of the two other
peninsulas in graceful outline or grandeur, and most of them are still
covered with virgin forests. If they are less accessible than the Apennines of
Italy or the sierras of Spain, that is owing simply to the want of roads; for
they are, as a rule, of moderate elevation, and the plateaux from which they
rise are narrower and more extensively intersected by valleys than is the
table-land of Castile. Both Spain and Italy are closed in the north by
mountain barriers difficult to cross, whilst the Balkan peninsula joins the

continental trunk by almost imperceptible transitions, and nowhere is it
separated from it by well-defined natural boundaries. The Austrian Alps
extend without a break into Bosnia, and the Carpathians cross the Danube
in order to effect a junction with the system of the Balkan. To the east of the
“Iron Gate” there are no mountains at all, and Turkey is bounded there by
the broad valley of the Danube. {88}
The proximity and parallelism of the coasts of two continents confer
upon the Balkan peninsula an advantage unrivalled, perhaps, throughout the
world. It is separated from Asia only by the narrow channel which joins the
Black Sea to the Ægean Sea: this channel is an ocean highway, and yet
forms no serious obstacle to the migration of nations from continent to
continent. If the Black Sea were larger than it is at present; if it still formed
one sea with the Caspian, and extended far into Asia, as it did in a past age,
then Constantinople would necessarily become the great centre of the
ancient world. That proud position was actually held by it a thousand years
ago, and even if it should never recover it, its geographical position alone
insures to it an importance for all time to come. If the city were to be razed
to day, it would arise again to-morrow at some other spot in the
neighbourhood. In the dawn of history powerful Ilion kept watch at the
entrance of the Dardanelles: it survives in the city on the Bosphorus; and
had there been no Byzantium, its mantle would have descended upon some
other town in the same locality.
We know the part played by ancient Greece in the history of human
culture. Macedonia and Thracia, the two other countries bordering upon the
Ægean, have played their part too. It was those provinces which, after the
invasion of the Persians, gave birth to the movement of reaction which led
the armies of Alexander to the Euphrates and Indus. The power of the
Romans survived there for a thousand years after Rome itself had fallen,
and the precious germs of civilisation, which at a later period regenerated
Western Europe, were nurtured there. It is true, alas ! that the Turk has put a
stop to every enterprise of a civilising nature. These conquerors of Turanian
race were carried into the Balkan peninsula in the course of a general
migration of nations towards the west, which went on for three thousand

years, and was attended by perpetual broils. It is now five hundred years
since the Turks obtained a footing in the peninsula, and for more than four
hundred years they have been its masters, and during that long period the
old Roman empire of the East has been severed, as it were, from the rest of
Europe. The normal progress of these highly favoured countries has been
interrupted by incessant wars between Christians and Mo­ham­me­dans, by
the decay of the nations conquered or enslaved by the Turks, and by the
heedless fatalism of the masters of the country. But the time is approaching
when that important portion of Europe will resume the position due to it
amongst the countries of the earth.
Vast tracts of the Balkan peninsula are hardly better known to us than the
wilds of Africa. Kanitz found rivers, hills, and mountains figuring upon our
maps which have no existence. Another traveller, Lejean, found that a
pretended low pass through the Balkans existed only in the imagination.
Russian geodesists engaged upon the measurement of an arc of a meridian
found that Sofia, one of the largest and best-known cities of Turkey, had
been inserted upon the best maps at a distance of nearly a day’s journey
from its true position. The entire chain of the Balkans had to be shifted
considerably to the south, in consequence of explorations carried on within
the last few years. Men of science have hardly ventured yet to explore the
plateaux of Albania or Mount Pindus, and much remains yet to {89} be done
before our knowledge of the topography of the Balkan peninsula can be
called even moderately complete. The voyages and explorations of a host of
24
travellers have, however, made known to us its general features and its
geological formations. Their task was by no means an easy one, for the
mountain masses and mountain chains of the peninsula do not constitute a
regular, well-defined system. There is no central range, with spurs running
out on both sides, and gradually decreasing in height as they approach the
plains. Nor is the centre of the peninsula its most elevated portion, for the
culminating summits are dispersed over the country apparently without
order. The mountain ranges run in all the directions of the compass, and we
can only say, in a general way, that those of Western Turkey run parallel
with the Adriatic and Ionian coasts, whilst those in the east meet the coasts

of the Black Sea and the Ægean at right angles. The relief of the soil and the
water-sheds make it appear almost as if Turkey turned her back upon
continental Europe. Its highest mountains, its most extensive table-lands,
and its most inaccessible forests lie towards the west and north-west, as if
they were intended to cut it off from the shores of the Adriatic and the
plains of Hungary, whilst all its rivers, whether they run to the north, east,
or south, finally find their way into the Black Sea or the Ægean, whose
shores face those of Asia.
This irregularity in the distribution of the mountains has its analogue in
the distribution of the various races which inhabit the peninsula. The
invaders or peaceful colonists, whether they came across the straits from
Asia Minor, or along the valley of the Danube from Scythia, soon found
themselves scattered in numerous valleys, or stopped by amphitheatres
having no outlet. They failed to find their way in this labyrinth of
mountains, and members of the most diverse races settled down in
proximity to each other, and frequently came into conflict. The most
numerous, the most warlike, or the most industrious races gradually
extended their power at the expense of their neighbours; and the latter,
defeated in the struggle for existence, have been scattered into innumerable
fragments, between which there is no longer any cohesion. Hungary has a
homogeneous population, if we compare it with that of Turkey; for in the
latter country there are districts where eight or ten different nationalities
live side by side within a radius of a few miles.
Time, however, has brought some order into this chaos, and commercial
intercourse has done much to assimilate these various races. Speaking
broadly, Turkey in Europe may now be said to be divided into four great
ethnological zones. The Greeks occupy Crete, the islands of the
Archipelago, the shores of the Ægean Sea, and the eastern slopes of Mounts
Pindus and Olympus; the Albanians hold the country between the Adriatic
and Mount Pindus; the Slavs, including Servians, Croats, Bosnians,
Herzegovinians, and Tsernagorans (Montenegrins), occupy the Illyrian
Alps, towards the north-west; whilst the slopes of the Balkan, the Despoto
Dagh, and the plains of Eastern Turkey belong to the Bulgarians, who, as

far as language goes, are Slavs likewise. As to the Turks, the lords of the
land, {90} they are to be met with in most places, and particularly in the
large towns and fortresses; but the only portion of the country which they
occupy to the exclusion of other races is the north-eastern corner of the
peninsula, bounded by the Balkans, the Danube, and the Black Sea.

II.—C RETE AND THE I SLANDS OF THE A RCHIPELAGO.
Crete, next to Cyprus, is the largest island inhabited by Greeks. It is a
natural dependency of Greece, but treaties made without consulting the
wishes of the people have handed it over to the Turks. It is Greek in spite of
this, not only because the majority of its inhabitants consider it to be so, but
also because of its soil, its climate, and its geographical position. On all
sides it is surrounded by deep seas, except towards the north-west, where a
submarine plateau joins it to Cythera and the Peloponnesus.
There are few countries in the world more favoured by nature. Its climate
is mild, though sometimes too dry in summer; its soil fertile in spite of the
waters being swallowed up by the limestone rocks; its harbours spacious
and well sheltered; and its scenery exhibits both grandeur and quiet beauty.
The position of Crete, at the mouth of the Archipelago, between Europe,
Asia, and Africa, seems to have destined that island to become the great
commercial emporium of that part of the world. Aristotle already observed
this, and, if tradition can be trusted, Crete actually held that position for
more than three thousand years. During that time it “ruled the waves;” the
Cyclades acknowledged the sway of Minos, its king; Cretan colonists
established themselves in Sicily; and Cretan vessels found their way to
every part of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. But the island unfortunately became
divided into innumerable small republics jealous of each other, and was
therefore unable to maintain this commercial supremacy in the face of
Dorian and other Greeks. At a subsequent period the Romans subjected the
island, and it never recovered its independence. Byzantines, Arabs,
Venetians, and Turks have held it in turn, and by each of them it has been
laid waste and impoverished.
The elongated shape of the island, and the range of mountains which runs
through it from one extremity to the other, enable us to understand how it
was that at a time when most Greeks looked upon the walls of their cities as
synonymous with the limits of their fatherland, Crete became divided into a
multitude of small republics, and how every attempt at federation
(“syncretism”) miserably failed. The inhabitants, in fact, were more

effectually separated from each other than if they had inhabited a number of
small islands forming an archipelago. Most of the coast valleys are enclosed
by high mountains, the only easy access to them being from the sea, and
communications between the towns occupying their centres are possible
only by crossing difficult mountain paths easily defended. In all Crete there
exists but one plain deserving the name, viz. that of Messara, to the south of
the central mass of mountains. It is the granary of the island, and the
Ieropotamo, or “holy river,” which traverses it, has a little water even in the
middle of summer. {91}
The contour of Crete corresponds in a remarkable manner with the height
of its mountains. Where these are high, the island is broad; where they sink
down, it is narrow. In the centre of the island rises Mount Ida (Psiloriti),
where Jupiter was educated by the Corybantes, and where his tomb was
shown. Its lofty summit, covered with snow almost throughout the year, its
gigantic buttresses, and the verdant valleys at its base render it one of the
most imposing mountains in the world; but it was still more magnificent in
the time of the ancient Greeks, when forests covered its slopes, and justified
its being called Mount Ida, or “the wooded.” On the summit of this
mountain the whole island lies spread out beneath our feet; the horizon
towards the north, from Mount Taygetus to the shores of Asia, is dotted
with islands and peninsulas; and in the south a wide expanse of water
extends beyond the barren and inhospitable island of Gaudo.

Fig. 28.—T HE G ORGE OF H AGIO R UMELI.

The Leuca-Ori, or “White Mountains,” in the western extremity of the
island, are thus called on account of the snow which covers their summits,
or because {92} of their white limestone cliffs. They are exceedingly steep,
and perfectly bare, hardly any verdure being met with even in the valleys at
their foot. They are known, also, as the Mountains of the Sphakiotes, the
descendants of the ancient Dorians, who have retired into their fastnesses,
where they are protected by nature against every attack. Some of their

villages are accessible only by following the stony bed of mountain torrents
leaping down from the heights in small cascades. During the rains the water
rushes down these ravines in mighty torrents. The “gates are closed” then,
as it is said. One of these gates, or pharynghi , is that of Hagio Rumeli, on
the southern slope of the Leuca-Ori. When rain threatens it is dangerous to
enter these gorges, for the waters rush down and carry everything before
them. During the war of independence the Turks vainly endeavoured to
force this “gate” of the strong mountain citadel. The level pieces of ground
on these heights are sufficiently extensive to support a considerable
population, if it were not for the cold. The villages of Askyfo occupy one of
these plains, which is surrounded on all sides by an amphitheatre of
mountains. In former times this cavity was occupied by a lake. This is
proved by ancient beaches and by other evidence. But the waters of the lake
found an outlet through some katavothras (khonos , “sinks”) and discharged
themselves into the sea.
The remaining mountains of the island are less elevated and far less
sterile than the White Mountains. The most remarkable amongst them are
the Lasithi, and, still farther west, those of Dicte, or Sitia, a sort of pendant
to the Mountains of the Sphakiotes. Raised sea-beaches have been traced
along their northern slopes, covered with shells of living species, and they
prove that that portion of the island has been upheaved more than sixty feet
during a recent geological epoch. The northern coast, between the White
Mountains and Mount Dicte, offers a greater variety of contour than does
the south coast. Its capes, or acroteria , project far into the sea, and thence
are gulfs, bays, and secure anchorages. For these reasons most commercial
cities have been built upon that side of the island, which faces the
Archipelago and presents a picture of life, whilst the south coast, facing
Africa, is comparatively deserted. All the modern cities on the northern
coasts have been built upon the sites of ancient ones. Megalokastron, better
known by its Italian name of Candia, is the Heracleum of the ancients, the
famous haven of Cnossus. Retimo, on the western front of Mount Ida, is
easily identified with the ancient Rithymna; whilst Khanea (Canea), whose
white houses are almost confounded with the arid slopes of the White

Mountains, represents the Cydonia of the Greeks, famous for its forests of
quince-trees. Canea is the actual capital, and although not the most
populous, it is nevertheless the most important and the busiest city of the
island. It has a second haven to the east, Azizirge, on Suda Bay, one of the
best sheltered on the island, and promises to become one of the principal
25
maritime stations on the Me­di­ter­ra­nean. {93}
Crete has certainly lost much in population and wealth, and the epithet of
the “isle of a hundred cities,” which it received from the ancient Greeks, no
longer applies to it. Miserable villages occupy the sites of the ancient cities,
their houses built from the materials of a single ruined wall, whilst immense
quarries had to be opened in order to supply the building materials required
in former times. The famous “labyrinth” is one of the most considerable of
these ancient quarries. Crete, in spite of its great fertility, exports merely a
few agricultural products, and nothing now reminds us of the fruitful island
upon which Ceres gave birth to Plutus. The peasants are the reputed owners
of the land, but they take little heed of its cultivation. Their olives yield only
an inferior oil, and though the wine they make is good in spite of them, it is
no longer the Malvoisie so highly prized by the Venetians. The cultivation
of cotton, tobacco, and of fruit of all sorts is neglected. The only progress in
agriculture which can be recorded during the present century consists in the
introduction of orange-trees, whose delicious fruit is highly appreciated
throughout the East. M. Georges Perrot has drawn attention to the singular
fact that, with the exception of the olive-trees and the vine, the cultivated
trees of the island are confined to particular localities. Thus chestnuts are
met with only at the western extremity of the island; vigorous oaks and
cypresses are confined to the elevated valleys of the Sphakiotes; the valonia
oaks are met with only in the province of Retimo; Mount Dicte alone
supports stone-pines and carob-trees; and a promontory in South-eastern
Crete, jutting out towards Africa, is surmounted by a grove of date-trees—
the finest throughout the Archipelago.

Fig. 29.—C RETE, OR C ANDIA.
Scale 1 : 2 470,000.

The district inhabited by Mo­ham­me­dans is shaded vertically.

The inhabitants of Crete and the neighbouring islets are still Greek, in
spite of successive invasions, and they still speak a Greek dialect,
recognised as a corrupted Dorian. The Slavs, who invaded the island during
the Middle Ages, have left no trace except the names of a few villages. The
Arabs and Venetians, too, have been assimilated by the aboriginal Cretans;
but there still exist a considerable {94} number of Albanians, the
descendants of soldiers, who have retained their language and their
customs. As to the Mo­ham­me­dans or pretended Turks, who constitute about
one-fifth of the total population, they are, for the most part, the descendants
of Cretans who embraced Islamism in order to escape persecution. They are
the only Hellenes throughout the East who have embraced, in a body, the
religion of their conquerors; but since religious persecution has subsided
several of those Mo­ham­me­dan Greeks have returned to the religion of their
ancestors. The Greeks of Crete are thus not only vastly in the majority, but
they hold the first place also in industry, commerce, and wealth; it is they
who buy up the land, and the Mo­ham­me­dan gradually retires before them.
All Cretans, with the exception of the Albanians, speak Greek, and only in
the capital and in a portion of Messara, where the Mo­ham­me­dans live in
compact masses, has the Turkish language made any progress.

We need not be surprised, therefore, if the Greeks lay claim to a country
in which their preponderance is so marked. But, in spite of their valour, they
were no match against the Turkish and Egyptian armies which were brought
against them.
The Cretans are said to resemble their ancestors in the eagerness with
which they do business, and in their disregard of truth. They may possibly
be “Greeks amongst Greeks—liars amongst liars;” but they certainly cannot
be reproached with being bad patriots. On the contrary, they have suffered
much for the sake of their fatherland, and during the war of independence
their blood was shed in torrents on many a battle-field. The vast cavern of
Melidhoni, on the western slope of Mount Ida, was the scene of one of the
terrible events of this war. In 1822 more than three hundred Hellenes, most
of them women, children, and old men, had sought refuge in this cavern.
The Turks lit a fire at its mouth, and the smoke, penetrating to its farthest
extremity, suffocated the unfortunate beings who had hoped to find shelter
there.

The profound “Sea of Minos,” to the north of Crete, separates that island
from the Archipelago. All the islands of the latter have been assigned to the
kingdom of Greece—Astypalæa, vulgarly called Astropalæa or Stampalia,
alone excepted, which still belongs to the Turks. The ancients called this
island the “Table of the Gods,” although it is only a barren rock. It clearly
belongs to the eastern chain of the Cyclades, as far as geological formation
and the configuration of the sea-bottom go; but the diplomats allowed its
fifteen hundred inhabitants to remain under the dominion of Turkey.
Amongst the other islands inhabited by Greeks, but belonging to Turkey,
Thasos is that which lies nearest to the coast of Europe. The strait which
separates it from Macedonia is hardly four miles across, and in its centre
there is an island (Thasopulo), as well as several sand-banks, which
interfere much with navigation. Though a natural dependency of
Macedonia, this island is governed by a mudir of the Viceroy of Egypt, to
whom the Porte made a present of it. When Mohammed II. put an end to the

Byzantine empire, Thasos and the {95} neighbouring islands formed a
principality, the property of the Italian family of the Gateluzzi.

Fig. 30.—T HE Æ GEAN S EA.
According to Robiquet. Scale, 1 : 5,170,000.

The map is shaded to express the depth of the sea. The palest tint Μ
indicates a depth of less than 55 fathoms; the next tint a depth of 55 to 275
fathoms; the next a depth of 275 to 550 fathoms; and the darkest tint a depth
of over 550 fathoms.

Thasos is one of those countries of the ancient world the present
condition of which contrasts most unfavourably with former times. Thasos,
an ancient Phœnician colony, was once the rival, and subsequently the

wealthy and powerful ally, of Athens: its hundred thousand inhabitants
worked the gold and iron mines of {96} the island; they quarried its beautiful
white marble; cultivated vineyards yielding a famous wine; and extended
their commercial expeditions to every part of the Ægean Sea. But now there
are neither mines nor quarries, the vines yield only an inferior product, the
agricultural produce hardly suffices for the six thousand inhabitants of the
island, and the ancient haven of Thasos is frequented only by the tiniest of
vessels. The island has recovered very slowly from the blow inflicted upon
it by Mohammed II., who carried nearly the whole of its inhabitants to
Constantinople. Thasos after this became a haunt of pirates, and its
inhabitants sought shelter within the mountains of the interior. They are
Hellenes, but their dialect is very much mixed with Turkish words. Unlike
other Hellenes, they are not anxious to improve their minds. They are
degenerate Greeks, and they know it. “We are sheep and beasts of burden,”
they’ repeatedly told the French traveller, Perrot.
Thasos, however, is the only island of the Archipelago where wooded
mountains and verdant landscapes survive. Rains are abundant, and its
vegetation luxuriant. Running streams of water murmur in every valley;
large trees throw their shade over the hill-sides; the villages near the foot of
the mountain are hidden by cypresses, walnut, and olive-trees; the valleys
which radiate in all directions from the centre of the island abound in
planes, laurels, yoke-elms, and vigorous oaks; and dark pine forests cover
the higher slopes of the hills, the glittering barren summits of Mount St.
Elias and of other high mountains alone rising above them.
Samothrace, though smaller than Thasos, is much more elevated. Its
mountains are composed of granite, schists, limestones, and trachyte, and
form a sort of pendant to Mount Athos, on the other side of the Ægean Sea.
If we approach Samothrace from the north or the south, it presents the
appearance of a huge coffin floating upon the waters; from the east or west
its profile resembles a pyramid rising from the waves. From its summit
Neptune watched the fight of the Greeks before Troy. In the dark oak
forests of the Black Mountains were carried on the mysteries of Cybele and
her Corybantes, as well as the Cabiric worship, which was intimately

connected with them, and Samothrace was to the ancient Greeks what
Mount Athos is to the moderns—a sacred land. Numerous ruins and
inscriptions remain to bear witness to the zeal of devout travellers from all
parts of the world. But with the downfall of the heathen temples the
pilgrims disappeared. There is only one village on the island now. Its
inhabitants lead a secluded life, and the only strange faces they see are
those of the sponge-fishers who frequent the island during summer. The
entire absence of harbours, and the dangerous current which separates
Samothrace from Imbro, keep off the mariner, and though the valleys are
extremely fertile, they have not hitherto attracted a single immigrant from
the neighbouring continent.
Imbro and Lemnos are separated from Samothrace by a deep sea, and
appear to continue the range of the Thracian Chersonesus. Imbro, which is
nearest to the continent, is the more elevated of the two islands, but its St.
Elias does not attain half the height of the mountains of Samothrace. There
are no forests {97} upon the slopes of this mountain, the valleys are covered
with stones, and hardly an eighth of the surface of the island is capable of
cultivation. Still, the position of Imbro, close to the mouth of the
Dardanelles and upon an international ocean highway, will always secure to
it a certain degree of importance. The majority of the inhabitants live in a
small valley in the north-eastern portion of the island, and though the rivulet
which flows through this valley regularly dries up in summer, it is
nevertheless called emphatically the Megalos Potamos, or “big river.”
Lemnos, or Limni, is the largest island of Thracia, and at the same time
the least elevated and the most barren. You may walk for hours there
without seeing a tree. Even olive-trees are not met with in the fields, and the
village gardens can boast but of few fruit trees. Timber has to be procured
from Thasos or the continent. Lemnos, in spite of all this, is exceedingly
fertile; it produces barley and other cereals in plenty, and the pastures
amongst its hills sustain 40,000 sheep. The island consists of several
distinct mountain groups of volcanic origin, 1,200 to 1,500 feet in height,
and separated by low plains covered with scoriæ, or by gulfs penetrating far
inland. In the time of the ancient Greeks the volcanoes of Lemnos had not

yet quenched their fires, for it was in one of them that Vulcan, when hurled
from heaven, established his smithy, and, with the assistance of the
Cyclops, forged his thunderbolts for Jupiter. About the beginning of our era
Mount Mosychlos and the promontory of Chryse were swallowed up by the
sea, and the vast shoals which extend from the eastern part of the island in
the direction of Imbro probably mark their site. Since the disappearance of
Mount Mosychlos, Lemnos has not again suffered from volcanic eruptions
or earthquakes. The majority of the inhabitants are Greeks, and the Turks
who have settled amongst them are being evicted by the conquered race,
which is superior to them in intelligence and industry. Commerce is entirely
in the hands of the Greeks. Its principal seat is at Kastro—the ancient
Myrhina—which occupies a headland between two roadsteads. Sealed earth
is one of the articles exported, and is found in the mountains. In ancient
times it was much prized as an astringent, and is so still throughout the
East. It is not considered to possess its healing qualities unless it has been
collected before sunrise on Corpus Christi day.
The small island of Stratio (Hagios Eustrathios) depends politically and
commercially upon Lemnos. It, too, is inhabited by Greeks. As to the
islands along the coast of Asia Minor, they form a portion of Turkey in
Europe as far as their political administration is concerned, but
26
geographically they belong to Asia. {98}

III.—T URKEY OF THE G REEKS (T HRACIA, M ACEDONIA,
AND T HESSALY ).

The whole of the Ægean seaboard of European Turkey is occupied by
Greeks, and this proves the great influence which the sea has exercised
upon the migrations of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean nations. Thessaly, Macedonia,
Chalcis, and Thrace are more or less Greek countries, and even
Constantinople lies within Greece, as defined by ethnological boundaries.
The geographical distribution of race there does not, in fact, coincide with
the physical features of the country—its mountains, rivers, and climate. The
Turkey of the Greeks is, in reality, no geographical unit, and the only tie
which unites it are the waters of the Archipelago, which wash all its shores.
Nowhere else does the Balkan peninsula exhibit such varied features as
on the shores of the Ægean Sea, and of the adjoining basin of the Sea of
Marmara. Bluffs, hills, and mountain masses rise abruptly from the plain;
arms of the sea extend far inland; and ramified peninsulas project into the
deep waters of the ocean. It appears almost as if nature were making an
effort to create an archipelago similar to that in the south.
The tongue of land upon which Constantinople has been built offers a
remarkable example of the features which characterize the coast lands of
this portion of Europe. Geologically the whole of this peninsula belongs to
Asia. Its hollow hills are separated from the granitic mountains of Europe
by a wide plain covered with recent formations, and the wall of Athanasius,
now in ruins, which was built as a defence to the city, approximately marks
the true boundary between Europe and Asia. The rocks on both sides of the
Bosphorus belong to the Devonian formation. They contain the same
fossils, exhibit the same outward aspects, and date from the same epoch. A
patch of volcanic rocks at the northern entrance to the Bosphorus likewise
exhibits the same characteristics on both sides of the strait, and there cannot
be the least doubt that this European peninsula at a former epoch
constituted a portion of Asia Minor, but was severed from it by an irruption
of the waters.

THE CITY OF CONSTANTINOPLE, AND THE THRACIAN BOSPHORUS. Μ

CONSTANTINOPLE AND THE GOLDEN HORN, FROM THE HEIGHTS OF EYUB.

Apollo himself, it is said, pointed out the site where to build the city
which is now known as Constantinople, and no better could have been
found. In fact, the city occupies the most favoured spot on the Bosphorus. It
stands on a peninsula of gently undulating hills, bounded by the Sea of
Marmara and by the curved inlet called, from its shape, its beauty, and the
valuable cargoes floating upon its waters, the “Golden Horn.” The swift
current of the Bosphorus penetrates into this inlet, and sweeps it clean of all
the refuse of the city. It then passes into the open sea at the extreme angle of
the peninsula, and sailing vessels are thus able to reach their anchorage
without having to struggle against a contrary current. This haven not only
affords a secure anchorage to a multitude of vessels, but it likewise abounds
in fish; for, in spite of the constant agitation of its waters by the oars of
caiques and the paddles or screws of steamers, it is visited annually by
shoals of tunnies and other fish. The haven of Constantinople, though easy
of access to peaceable merchantmen, can readily be {99} closed in case of
war. The surrounding heights command every approach to it, and a chain

has more than once been drawn across the narrow entrance to its roadstead
when the city was besieged. The latter, too, can be defended easily, for it is
built upon hills, bounded on the land side by an extensive plain. An
assailant, to insure success, must dispose not only of an army, but also of a
powerful navy. In addition to all these natural advantages of its site,
Constantinople is in the enjoyment of a climate far superior to that of the
cities of the Black Sea, for it is screened by hills from cold northerly winds.
Fig. 31.—G EOLOGICAL M AP OF THE P ENINSULA OF C ONSTANTINOPLE. Μ
According to F. von Hochstetter. Scale 1 : 1,370,000.

In the dawn of history, when migration and commerce marched only at a
slow pace, a site as favoured as that of Byzantium was capable only of
attracting the dwellers in its immediate neighbourhood. But after commerce

had become developed, the blind alone—so said the oracle of Apollo—
could fail to appreciate the great advantages held out by the Golden Horn.
Indeed, Constantinople lies not only on the ocean highway which connects
the world of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean with the Black Sea, but also on the high-
road which leads from Asia into Europe. Geographically it may be
described as occupying a position at {100} the mouths of the Danube,
Dniester, Dnieper, Don, Rion, and Kizil Irmak, whose common outlet is the
Bosphorus. When Constantine the Great constituted it the metropolis of the
Roman empire, it grew rapidly in population and wealth; it soon became the
city of cities; and its Turkish appellation, Stamboul, is nothing but a
corruption of the expression es tam polin , used by the inhabitants to denote
their going into the city . Amongst the distant tribes of Asia it represents
Rome. They know it by no other name than that of “Rum,” and the country
of which it is the capital they call “Rumelia.”
Constantinople is one of the most beautiful cities in the world: it is the
“paradisiacal city” of Eastern nations. It may compare with Naples or Rio
de Janeiro, and many travellers accord it the palm. As we approach the
entrance of the Golden Horn, seated in a caique more graceful than the
gondolas of Venice, the vast and varied panorama around us changes with
every stroke of the oars. Beyond the white walls of the Seraglio and its
masses of verdure rise here, am­phi­thea­tri­cal­ly on the seven hills of the
peninsula, the houses of Stamboul—its towers, the vast domes of its
mosques, with their circlets of smaller domes, and its elegant minarets, with
their balconies. On the other side of the haven, which is crossed by bridges
of boats, there are more mosques and towers, seen through a forest of masts
and rigging, and covering the slope of a hill whose summit is crowned by
regularly built houses and the palatial residences of Pera. On the north vast
villa-cities extend along both shores of the Bosphorus. Towards the east, on
a promontory of Asia, there is still another city, cradled amidst gardens and
trees. This is Scutari, the Asiatic suburb of Constantinople, with its pink
houses and vast cemetery shaded by beautiful cypress groves. Farther in the
distance we perceive Kadi-koei, the ancient Chalcedon, and the small town
of Prinkipo, on one of the Princes’ Islands, whose yellow rocks and verdant

groves are reflected in the blue waters of the Sea of Marmara. The sheet of
water connecting these various portions of the huge city is alive with
vessels and boats, whose movements impart animation to the magnificent
picture. The prospect from the heights above the town is still more
magnificent. The coasts of Europe and Asia are beneath our feet, the eye
can trace the sinuosities of the Bosphorus, and far away in the distance
looms the snow-capped pyramidal summit of Mount Olympus, in Bithynia.
But this enchantment vanishes as soon as we penetrate into the streets of
Constantinople. There are many parts of the town with narrow and filthy
streets, which a stranger hesitates to enter. It is, perhaps, a blessing, from a
sanitary point of view, that conflagrations so frequently lay waste and scour
large portions of the city. Scarcely a night passes without the watchman on
the tower of the Seraskieriate giving the alarm of fire, and thousands of
houses are devoured by that element every year. The city thus renews itself
by degrees. It rises from its ashes purified by the flames. But formerly,
before the Turks had built their city of stone on the heights of Pera, the
quarters destroyed by fire were rebuilt as wretchedly as they were before. It
is different now. The use of stone has become more general; wooden
structures are being replaced by houses built {101} of a fossiliferous white
limestone, which is quarried at the very gates of the city; and free use is
made of the blue and grey marbles of Marmara, and of the flesh-coloured
ones of the Gulf of Cyzica, in Asia Minor, in decorating the palaces of the
great.
Nearly every vestige of the monuments of ancient Byzantium has been
swept away by fires or sieges. There only exists now the precious tripod of
bronze, with its three serpents, which the Platæans had placed in the temple
of Delphi in commemoration of their victory over the Persians. The relics of
the epoch of the Byzantine emperors are limited to columns, obelisks,
arches of aqueducts, the breached walls of the city, the remains of the
palace of Justinian, only discovered recently, and the two churches of Santa
Sophia, which have been converted into mosques. The grand church of
Santa Sophia, close to the Seraglio, is no longer the most magnificent
edifice in the universe, as it was in the time of Justinian, for even the

neighbouring mosque of Sultan Ahmed far exceeds it in beauty and
elegance. It is a clumsy building, supported by buttresses added at various
times to keep it from falling. The character of the interior has been changed
by the Turks, who have introduced additional pillars, and the once bright
mosaics have been covered over; but the dome never fails to strike the
beholder: it is a marvel of strength and lightness.
The Seraglio, or Serai, near Garden Point, may boast of fine pavilions
and shady walks, but the dark memories of crime will always cling to it.
The spot from which sacks containing the bodies of living sultanas or
odalisks were hurled into the dark waters of the Bosphorus is still pointed
out to the traveller. Far more attractive than this ancient residence of the
sultans are the marvellous structures in the Arab or Persian style which line
the shores of the Bosphorus, and which impart to the suburbs of
Constantinople an aspect of oriental splendour.
The bazaars are amongst the most curious places in the city, not so much
because of the rich merchandise which is displayed in them, but because
they are frequented by a variety of nations such as cannot be met with in
any other city of the world. The capital of the Ottoman empire is a centre of
attraction not only to the inhabitants of the Balkan peninsula, but also to
those of Anatolia, Syria, Arabia, Egypt, Tunis, and even of the oases. There
are “Franks” from every country of Europe, drawn thither by a desire to
share in the profits of the ever-increasing commerce of the Bosphorus. This
mixture of races is rendered still greater by the surreptitious importation of
slaves; for, whatever diplomatists may assert, there can be no doubt that the
“honourable guild of slave-dealers” still does an excellent business in
negresses, Circassians, and white and black eunuchs. Nor is anything else to
be expected amongst a people who look upon a well-stocked harem as a
sign of respectability. Dr. Millingen estimates the number of slaves at
Constantinople at 30,000 souls, most of whom have been imported from
Africa. From an anthropological point of view it is certainly very
remarkable that the negro should not have taken root in Constantinople. In
the course of the last four centuries a million of negroes at least have been

imported, and yet, owing to difficulties of acclimation, ill-usage, and want,
they would die out but for fresh importations. {102}
Our statistics do not enable us to classify the 600,000 inhabitants of
27
Constantinople and its suburbs according to race. One of the principal
sources of error in estimates of this kind consists in our confounding
Mussulmans with Turks. In the provinces it is generally possible to avoid
this error, for Bosnians, Bulgarians, and Albanians recognise each other as
members of the same race, whatever religious differences may exist
between them. But in the turmoil of a great city this distinction is no longer
made, and, in the end, all those who frequent the mosques are lumped
together as if they were members of the same race. Of the supposed
Osmanli of Constantinople a third, perhaps, consists of Turks, whilst the
remaining two-thirds are made up of Arnauts, Bulgarians, Asiatics, and
Africans of various races. Amongst the boatmen there are many Lesghians
from the Caucasus. The Mo­ham­me­dans, if not in the minority already, will
be so very soon, for they lose ground almost visibly. In old Stamboul, in
which a Frank hardly dared to enter some twenty years ago, they still enjoy
a numerical preponderance, but in the “agglomeration of cities” known as
Constantinople, and extending from Prinkipo to Therapia, they are
outnumbered by Greeks, Armenians, and Franks, and certain quarters of the
town have been given up to the Christians altogether.
The Greeks are the most influential, and perhaps most numerous, element
amongst the rayas. Their head-quarters, like those of the Turks, are at
Stamboul, where they occupy a quarter of the town called Phanar, from an
old lighthouse. The Greek patriarch and the wealthiest Greek families reside
there. These Phanariotes, in former times, almost monopolized the
government of the Christian provinces of Turkey, but they fell into
disfavour after the Greek war of liberation. The religious influence, too,
which they exercised until quite recently, has been destroyed in
consequence of the separation of the Servian, Rumanian, and Bulgarian
Churches from the orthodox Greek Church—a separation brought about
almost entirely through the rapacity of the Greek patriarch and his satellites.
If the Greeks would continue to preserve their pre-eminence amongst the

races of Constantinople, they must trust, in the future, to their superior
intelligence, their commercial habits, education, patriotism, and unanimity.
To the Turks the members of the orthodox Church are known as the
“Roman nation,” and they enjoy a certain amount of self-government,
exercised through their bishops, which extends to marriages, schools,
hospitals, and a few other matters.
The “nation” of the Armenians is likewise very strong at Constantinople,
and, like that of the “Romans,” it governs itself through an elective
Executive Council. Much of the commerce of Constantinople passes
through the hands of Armenians, who, though they came to that city almost
simultaneously with the Turks, have down to the present day preserved their
peculiar manners. They are cold and reserved, and full of self-respect,
differing widely from their rivals in trade, the Jews, who slink furtively to
their poor suburb of Balata, at the upper {103} extremity of the Golden Horn.
The Armenians are clannish in the extreme, they readily assist each other,
and, like the Parsees of Bombay, delight in acts of munificence. But, unlike
the Greeks, they are not sustained in their undertakings by an ardent belief
in the destinies of their race. Most of them are not even able to speak their
native language freely, and prefer to converse in Turkish or Greek.
The Franks are much inferior in number to either of the races named, but
their influence is nevertheless far more decisive. It is through them that
Constantinople is attached to the civilisation of Western Europe, and their
institutions are by degrees getting the better of the fatalism of the East. It is
they who built the manufacturing suburbs to the west of Constantinople and
near Scutari, and who introduced railways. Every civilised nation of the
world is represented amongst them—Italians and French most numerously;
and to the Americans is due the credit of having established the first
geological museum in Turkey, in connection with Robert Colleg.
Constantinople, owing to the influx of strangers, is steadily increasing in
population, and one by one the villages in its vicinity are being swallowed
up by the city. The whole of the Golden Horn is surrounded by houses now,
and they extend far up the valleys of the Cydaris and Barbyzes, which fall
into it. Industrial establishments extend along the shores of the Sea of

Marmara, from the ancient fort of the Seven Towers far to the west, and
from Chalcedon to the south-east, in the direction of the Gulf of Nicomedia.
Both banks of the Bosphorus are lined with villas, palaces, kiosks, cafés,
and hotels. This remarkable channel extends for nineteen miles between the
28
shores of Europe and of Asia. Like a huge mountain valley it winds
between steep promontories, now contracting and then expanding, until it
finally opens out into the vast expanse of the Black Sea. When northern
winds hurl the agitated waters of the latter against the sombre cliffs which
guard the entrance to the Bosphorus, the contrast between this savage sea
and the placid waters of the strait and its charming scenery is striking
indeed. At every turn we are arrested by unexpected charms. Rocks,
palaces, woods, vessels of every description, and the curious scaffoldings of
Bulgarian fishermen succeed each other in infinite variety.
Amongst the innumerable country residences which nestle on the shores
of the Bosphorus, those of Balta-Liman, Therapia, and Buyukdere are the
best known, for they have been the scenes of historical events; but there is
no spot throughout this marine valley which does not excite admiration.
These marvels of nature will, before long, have added to them a marvel of
human ingenuity. The width of the channel between the castles of Rumili
and Anadoli is only 600 yards. It was here Mandroclus of Samos
constructed the bridge of boats across which Darius marched his army of
700,000 men when he made war upon the Scythians, and on this identical
spot it is proposed now to construct a railway bridge which will join the
railways of Europe to those of Asia. A current runs through the Bosphorus,
from the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara, at a rate of from two to six miles
an hour; and although several geographers conclude from this that the level
{104} of the former is higher than that of the latter, this must by no means be
looked upon as an established fact. We have already noticed the exchange
between the waters of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean and of the open Atlantic, which
takes place through the Strait of Gibraltar. A similar exchange is going on
here, and the outflowing surface current is compensated for by an inflowing
under-current.

The outlying houses and villas of Constantinople extend northwards
along the Bosphorus as far as the two Genoese castles of Rumili-kavak and
Anadoli-kavak. This extension coincides with the geological features of the
ground, for no sooner have we turned our backs upon the houses than we
find ourselves shut in between cliffs of dolerite and porphyry, which extend
as far as the Black Sea, where they terminate in the precipices of the
Cyaneæ, or Symplegades, the famous rocks which opened and shut,
crushing the vessels that ventured to pass through the strait, until Minerva
fixed them for ever. These volcanic rocks are barren, but the Devonian
strata to the south of them are beautifully wooded. The Turks, unlike the
Spaniards and other Southern nations, love and respect nature; plane-trees,
cypresses, and pines still shade the shores of the Bosphorus; and the vast
forest of Belgrade covers the hills to the east of Constantinople, from which
the city draws its supply of water. Birds, too, are better protected than in
many a Christian land. The plaintive cooing of doves is heard wherever we
turn, flights of swallows and aquatic birds skim over the surface of the
Bosphorus, and now and then we encounter a grave stork perched upon the
top of a tree or of a minaret.
The whole aspect of the place is southerly, yet the climate of
Constantinople has its rigour. The cold winds of the steppes of Russia freely
penetrate through the strait, and the thermometer has been known to fall
four degrees below zero in the winter. The neighbouring sea renders the
climate more equable than it would otherwise be; but as the winds, from
whatever direction they blow, meet with no obstacle, sudden changes of
temperature are frequent. The average temperature varies very considerably
in different years. Sometimes it sinks to the level of that of Pekin or
Baltimore, at others it is as high as that of Toulon or of Nice. In exceptional
cases the Bosphorus has become covered with ice, but thaws always set in
rapidly, and then may be witnessed the magnificent spectacle of masses of
ice striking against the walls of the Seraglio, and floating away across the
Sea of Marmara. In A.D. 762 these masses of ice were so stupendous that
they became wedged in the Dardanelles, and the tepid waters of the Ægean
Sea then assumed the aspect of a bay of the Arctic Ocean.

The geological features of the coast region of the Sea of Marmara differ
essentially from those of the rest of Turkey. Low ranges of hills rise close to
the coast, increasing in height towards the west, until they attain an
elevation of 2,930 feet in the Tekir Dagh, or “holy mountains,” the grey
slopes of which, covered here and there with patches of shrubs or pasturage,
are visible from afar.
A narrow neck of land joins the peninsula of Gallipoli—the Thracian
{105} Chersonesus of the ancients—to this coast range. This peninsula is
composed of quaternary rocks, which differ in no respect from those met
with on the shore of Asia opposite. Anciently a huge fresh-water lake
covered a portion of Thracia and more than half the area now occupied by
the Ægean Sea. When the land first emerged above the waters, the
Chersonesus formed an integral portion of Asia. Subsequently the waters of
the Black Sea, which had forced themselves a passage through the
Bosphorus, likewise found their way through the Hellespont into the Ægean
Sea. The geological formation of the country and the configuration of the
sea-bottom prove this to have been the case, and this irruption of the waters
was attended, probably, by volcanic eruptions, traces of which still exist on
the islands of the Sea of Marmara and near the mouth of the Maritza, the
former to the east, the latter to the west of the peninsula.

Fig. 32.—T HE H ELLESPONT, OR D ARDANELLES, AND THE G ULF OF S AROS.
Scale 1 : 1,220,000.

The dark shading expresses a depth exceeding 55 fathoms. Μ

If the statements of Pliny and Strabo may be relied upon, the Hellespont
must have been much narrower in former times than it is now. At Abydos—
the modern Naghara—the width is said to have amounted to seven stadia, or
less than a mile, anciently, whilst at the present time it is 6,500 feet. It was
here Xerxes constructed his double bridge of boats. The strait is deep at that
spot, and its current strong, but no wooden ship could hope to force a
passage if covered by the guns in the batteries on both coasts. The
Hellespont, like the Bosphorus, has two {106} currents flowing through it. In
winter, when the rivers which flow into the Black Sea are frozen up, and the
Sea of Marmara is no longer fed by the waters of the Bosphorus, a highly
saline under-current penetrates from the Ægean Sea into the Dardanelles,
whilst a feebler current of comparatively fresh water flows in a contrary
29
direction on the surface.

Gallipoli, the Constantinople of the Hellespont, stands near the western
extremity of the Sea of Marmara. It is the first city which the Turks
captured upon the soil of Europe; but though they settled down there nearly
a hundred years earlier than they did at Constantinople, they are no more in
the majority here than they are in the capital. Gallipoli, like Rodosto and
other towns on the Sea of Marmara, is inhabited by Mo­ham­me­dans of
various races, by Greeks, Armenians, and Jews, forming separate
communities dwelling within the walls of the same town. The country
population consists almost exclusively of Greeks, who are the proprietors
and cultivators of the land; and in sight of the coasts of Asia, and within that
portion of the Balkan peninsula which has been longest under the rule of the
Turk, the Greek is stronger numerically than anywhere else to the north of
Mount Pindus. He does not there confine himself to the coast, and, if we
except a few Bulgarian villages and the larger towns, the whole of Eastern
Thracia belongs to him.
The lowlands of this region form a vast triangular plain, bounded by the
Tekir Dagh and the coast range on the south, by offshoots from the
Rhodope on the west, and by the granitic mountains of Stranja on the east.
This is one of the dreariest districts of all Turkey. Swampy depressions and
untilled land recall the steppes of Russia; and in summer, when the wind
raises clouds of dust, we can imagine ourselves in the midst of a desert. The
dreary monotony of this plain is relieved only by the pale contours of
distant mountains, and by innumerable artificial mounds of unknown origin.
So numerous are these tumuli that they form an essential feature of the
landscape, and no artist could convey a just idea of it without introducing
into his picture one or more of them.
Near the northern extremity of this unattractive plain, at the confluence
of Maritza and Tunja, lies the city of Adrianople, enveloped in trees, whose
sight delights the eye of the weary traveller. Adrianople, in reality, consists
of a number of villages, separated from each other by orchards, poplars, and
cypresses, above which peep out the minarets of some hundred and fifty
mosques. The sparkling waters of the Maritza and Tunja, of rivulets and of
aqueducts, lend animation to the picture, and render Adrianople one of the

most delightful places. But it is more than this. It is the great centre of
population in the interior of Turkey, and its favourable geographical
position has always secured to the city a certain amount of importance. The
ancient city of Orestis, the capital of the Kings of Thracia, stood on this site,
and was succeeded by the Hadrianopolis of the Romans, which the Turks
changed into Edirneh, and made their capital until Constantinople fell into
their power. The old palace of the Sultan, built in the {107} Persian style
towards the close of the fourteenth century, still remains, though in a
dilapidated condition. But here, likewise, the Osmanli are in the minority.
The Greeks are their equals in numbers, and far surpass them in
intelligence, whilst the Bulgarians, too, muster strongly, and, as in other
towns of the East, we meet with a strange mixture of races, from Persian
merchants down to gipsy musicians. The Jews are proportionately more
numerous in Adrianople than in any other town of Turkey, and, strange to
relate, they differ from their co-religionists in every other part of the world
by a lack of smartness in business transactions. A local proverb says that “it
requires ten Jews to hold their own against one Greek;” and not Greeks
alone, for Wallachians, and even Bulgarians, are able to impose upon the
poor Israelite at Adrianople.
The communications between Adrianople and Midea, the ancient Greek
colony, famous for its subterranean temples, and with other cities on the
Black Sea, are difficult. Its natural outlets are towards the south—on the
one hand to Rodosto, on the Sea of Marmara; on the other, down the
Maritza valley to the Gulf of Saros. The railway follows the latter, and the
Rumelian Railway Company has constructed an artificial harbour at Dede
Aghach, enabling merchantmen to lie alongside a pier. The allurements of
commerce, however, have not hitherto induced the inhabitants of Enos to
exchange their walled and turreted acropolis for the marshy tract on the
Lower Maritza, with its deadly atmosphere.
The zone occupied by the Greeks grows narrower as we go west of the
Maritza, where the Rhodope Mountains form a kind of international barrier.
Only the coast is occupied there by Greek mariners and fishermen, whilst
the hills in sight of it are held almost exclusively by Turkish and Bulgarian

peasants and herdsmen. The marshy littoral districts, the small valleys on
the southern slopes of the mountains, and a few isolated hills of volcanic or
crystalline formation constitute a narrow band which connects the Greeks
of Thracia with their compatriots of Chalcidice and Thessaly. The Yuruks,
or “Wanderers,” a Turkish tribe which has retained its nomadic habits down
to the present day, sometimes even extend their excursions to the sea-coast.
Their principal seat is in the Pilav Tepe, a mountain mass to the north-west
of Thasos, famous in the time of the Macedonian kings for its mines of gold
and silver. A wide plain extends immediately to the west of these
mountains, watered by the Strymon, or Karasu, and is of marvellous
fertility. Seres, a considerable city, occupies its centre, and hundreds of
villages, surrounded by orchards, rice, and cotton fields are scattered over
it. Looked at from the heights of the Rhodope, this plain assumes the
appearance of a huge garden-city. Unfortunately many parts of it are very
insalubrious.
The triple peninsula of Chalcidice has no connection whatever with the
Rhodope, and is attached to the mainland by an isthmus covered with lakes,
swamps, and alluvial plains. It extends far into the sea like a huge hand
spread out upon the waters. Chalcidice is a Greece in miniature, with coasts
of fantastic contours, deep bays, bold promontories, and mountains rising in
the midst of plains, like islands in an archipelago. One of these mountain
masses rises in the trunk of the peninsula, and culminates in Mount
Kortach, whilst each of its three {108} ramifications possesses its own
system of scarped hills. Greek in aspect, this curious appendage to the
continent is Greek, too, in its population; and, a rare thing in Turkey, all its
inhabitants are of the same race, if we except the Turks in the town of
Nisvoro and the Slav monks of Mount Athos.

Fig. 33.—T HE P ENINSULA OF M OUNT A THOS. Μ
Scale 1 : 1,020,000.

The easternmost of the three tongues of land of Chalcidice, which jut out
far into the waters of the Ægean, is almost entirely detached. Only a low
and narrow neck of land connects it with the mainland, and it was across
this isthmus that Xerxes dug a canal, 3,950 feet in length, either to enable
his fleet to avoid the dangerous promontory of Mount Athos, or to give the
awe-struck inhabitants a proof of his power. This is the peninsula of Hagion
Oros, the Monte Santo of the Italians. At its extremity rises a limestone
mountain, one of the most beautiful in the Eastern Me­di­ter­ra­nean. This is
the famous Mount Athos, which an ancient sculptor proposed to convert
into a statue of Alexander, holding a city in one hand and a spring in the
other, and which Eastern legends point out as the “exceeding high
mountain” to which the devil took Jesus, to show him “all the kingdoms of
the world.” But whatever old legends may say, the panorama is not as vast
as this, though the shores of Chalcidice, Macedonia, and Thracia lie spread

out beneath our feet, and the eye can range across the blue waters of the
Ægean Sea from Mount Olympus, in Thessaly, to Mount Ida, in Asia Minor.
The bold outlines of the fortified monasteries which appear here and there,
in the midst of chestnuts, oaks, or pines, on the slope of the mountain,
contrast most happily with the faint outline of the coasts on the distant
30
horizon.
This peninsula, which a traveller has compared to a sphinx crouching
upon the bosom of the sea, is the property of a republic of monks, who
govern {109} themselves according to their own fancy. In return for a tribute,
which they pay to the Porte, they alone have the right to live there, and
strangers require their permission before they are allowed to enter. A
company of Christian soldiers is stationed at the neck of the peninsula to
prevent the sacred soil being desecrated by the footsteps of a woman. Even
the Turkish governor cannot gain admittance without leaving his harem
behind him. For fourteen hundred years, we are told in the chronicles of
Mount Athos, no female has set foot upon this sacred soil, and this
prohibition extends to animals as well as to human beings. Even the
presence of poultry would profane the monasteries, and the eggs eaten by
the monks are imported from Lemnos. With the exception of a few
purveyors, who reside at the village of Karyes, the 6,000 inhabitants of the
peninsula are monks, or their servants, and they live in the monasteries, or
in the hermitages attached to the 935 churches and chapels. Nearly all the
monks are Greeks, but amongst the twenty large monasteries there are two
which were built by the ancient sovereigns of Servia, and one which was
founded by Russia. Most of these edifices occupy promontories, and, with
their high walls and strong towers, they are exceedingly picturesque. One
amongst them, that of Simopetra, appears to be almost inaccessible. It is in
these retreats the good fathers of the order of St. Basil spend their lives in
contemplative inaction. They are bound to pray eight hours in the day and
two in the night, and during the whole of that time they are not allowed to
sit. They have, therefore, neither time nor strength for study or manual
labour. The books in their libraries are incomprehensible mysteries to them,
and, in spite of their sobriety, they might die of starvation if there were not

lay-brothers to work for them, and numerous farms on the mainland which
are their property. A few shiploads of hazel nuts is all this fertile peninsula
produces.
The ancient cities of Olynthus and Potidæa, on the neck of the western
peninsula of Chalcidice, have dwindled down into insignificant villages; but
the city of Therma, called afterwards Thessalonica, and now known as
Saloniki, still exists, for its geographical position is most favourable, and
after every siege and every conflagration it again rose from its ashes.
Vestiges of every epoch of history may still be seen there: Cyclopean and
Hellenic walls, triumphal arches, and remains of Roman temples, Byzantine
structures, and Venetian castles. Its harbour is excellent, its roadstead well
sheltered; and the high-roads into Upper Macedonia and Epirus lead from it
along the valleys of the Vardar and Inje Karasu. These favourable
circumstances have not been without their influence, and Saloniki, next to
Constantinople and Adrianople, is the most important city of European
Turkey. Its population is mixed, like that of other cities in the East, and
Jews are exceptionally numerous. Most of them are the descendants of
Spanish Jews, expelled by the Inquisition, and they still talk Spanish. Many
have outwardly embraced Mo­ham­me­danism to escape persecution, but the
true Mussulman spurns these converts with disdain. They are generally
known as “Mamins.”
The commerce of Saloniki is important even now, but greater things are
{110} expected of the future. Like Marseilles, Trieste, and Brindisi, Saloniki
aspires to become a connecting link in the trade between England and the
East. It actually lies on the most direct road between the Channel and the
Suez Canal, and once connected by railways with the rest of Europe, it is
sure to take a large share in the world’s commerce. This emporium of
Macedonia is interesting, too, from an ethnological point of view, for, with
the exception of Burgaz, on the Black Sea, it is the only place where the
Bulgarians, the most numerous race of European Turkey, have reached the
sea-coast. Everywhere else they are cut off from it by alien races, but
Saloniki brings them into direct contact with the remainder of Europe.
Saloniki, however, not only suffers from bad government, but also from the

marshes which surround it, and in summer many of its inhabitants flock to
the healthier town of Kalameria, to the west. Miasmatic swamps
unfortunately occupy a large portion of the northern coast of the Ægean,
and they separate the interior of Macedonia more effectively from the coast
than do its mountains. There is hardly any commerce except at Saloniki.

Fig. 34.—M OUNT O LYMPUS.

On the western shores of the Gulf of Saloniki, beyond the ever-changing
mouths of the Vardar and the briny waters of the Inje Karasu, or Haliacmon,
the land gradually rises. Hills are succeeded by mountains, until bold
precipices {111} approach close to the coast, and summit rises beyond
summit, up to the triple peak of Mount Olympus. Amongst the many
mountains which have borne this name, this is the highest and the most
beautiful, and the Greeks placed upon it the court of Jupiter and the
residence of the gods. It was in the plains of Thessaly, in the shadow of this
famous mountain, that the Greeks lived in the springtide of their history,
and their most cherished traditions attach themselves to this beautiful

country. The mountains which had sheltered the cradle of their race
remained to them for ever afterwards the seat of their protecting deities. But
Jupiter, Bacchus, and the other great gods of antiquity have disappeared
now, and monasteries have been built in the woods which witnessed the
revels of the Bacchantes.

Fig. 35.—M OUNT O LYMPUS AND THE V ALLEY OF T EMPE. Μ

Until recently the upper valleys of Mount Olympus were inhabited only
by monks, and by klephtes, or bandits, who sought shelter there from the
Arnaut soldiers sent in their pursuit. The mountain, in fact, constitutes a
world apart, surrounded on all sides by formidable declivities. Forty-two
peaks form the battlements of this mountain citadel, fifty-two springs rise
within it, and the bold klepht is secure within its fastnesses from the
abhorred Turk. Magnificent forests of laurel-trees, planes, and oaks cover
its lower maritime slopes, and in times of trouble they have served as a
refuge to entire populations. But Italian {112} speculators have purchased
these forests, and the time is not, perhaps, very distant when Mount
Olympus, deprived of its verdure, will be reduced to a barren mass of rock,

like most of the mountains of the Archipelago. Wild cats abound on the
lower slopes of Olympus, chamois still climb its rugged pinnacles, but bears
are no longer met with: St. Denys, who dwelt upon the mountain, required
beasts to ride upon, and changed them into horses !
Xenagoras, an ancient geometrician, was the first to measure the height
of Mount Olympus, but his result, 6,200 feet, is far from the truth, for the
31
highest summit attains an elevation of 9,750 feet. It may possibly be the
culminating point of the Balkan peninsula. Snow remains in some of its
crevices throughout the year, and no human being hitherto appears to have
succeeded in ascending its highest pinnacle. According to the Greek legend,
even Pelion heaped upon Ossa did not enable the Titans to reach the abode
of the gods, and, in reality, the combined height of these two mountains
hardly exceeds that of Olympus. But, in spite of this inferior height,
“pointed” Ossa and “long-stretched” Pelion, known to us moderns as
Kisovo and Zagora, impress the beholder, because of their savage valleys,
their precipitous walls of rock, and cliffy promontories.
These mountains continue southward through the hook-shaped peninsula
of Magnesia, and terminate opposite the island of Eubœa. They formed a
strong bulwark of defence in the time of ancient Greece. The hordes of the
barbarians stopped in front of this insurmountable barrier. They were
compelled to seek a practicable road to the west of it, through the valley of
the Peneus, which is rightly looked upon as the natural frontier of Hellas.
Hence the great strategical importance of Pharsalus, in Southern Thessaly,
which protects the gorges of the Othrys and the only access to the plains of
the Sperchius. The pass of Petra, at the northern extremity of Olympus, was
carefully guarded for similar reasons.
A large portion of the area bounded by the crystalline rocks of Olympus
and Ossa, and by the cretaceous range of the Pindus, running parallel with
the former, consists of plains originally covered by vast lakes. The Gulf of
Volo approaches close to the shrunken remains of one of these lakes—that
of Karla, or Bœbeis—into which the waters of the swampy plain of Larissa
discharge themselves. The dwellers on the shores of this lake say that a dull
rumbling noise may now and then be heard at its bottom, which they

ascribe to the bellowing of some invisible animal, but which is more
probably the gurgling sound of the water penetrating into a sink-hole. Other
lake basins are met with at the foot of Olympus towards the west and north-
west, and some of the valleys of the upper tributaries of the Peneus are
covered with alluvium left behind by the receding waters. Hercules,
according to some—Neptune, according to others—drained all these lakes
of Thessaly into the Ægean, by opening the narrow gorge between Olympus
and Ossa, known to the ancients as the Valley of Tempe. This narrow valley
is due, no doubt, to the slow erosive action of water. To the Hellenes it
realised their ideals of refreshing coolness and beauty, and once every nine
years an embassy arrived from Delphi to pluck the laurel-leaves destined
for the victors in the Pythian games. The {113} Valley of Tempe is indeed
most beautiful; the transparent and rapid waters of the Peneus, the foliage of
the planes, the shrubberies of laurel-roses, and the red-hued cliffs—these
combine frequently, and form pictures which delight the senses and impress
the mind. But, taken as a whole, this narrow and sombre valley fairly
deserves its modern name of Lykostomo, or “wolf’s gorge.” Even in
Thessaly, and, above all, in the Pindus, there are localities more smiling and
more beautiful than this famous Valley of Tempe.
The upper valleys of the Peneus, or Salembria, abound in natural
curiosities, such as defiles, sinks, and caverns. To the north-west of Mount
Olympus, the turbid Titaresius flows through the narrow gorge of Saranta
Poros, or of the Four Fords, which was looked upon in former times as one
of the gates of hell.
To the west, on the Upper Peneus, are the limestone hills of Khassia,
rising to a height of 5,000 feet, and the elevated spurs of Mount Pindus,
which have become celebrated through the “works of the gods,” or
theoktista , which surmount them. These “works” consist of isolated towers,
crags, and pillars, the most famous amongst them being those on the banks
of the Peneus, not far from Trikala. Zealous followers of Simeon the Stylite
conceived the idea of building their monasteries on the tops of some of the
larger of these natural columns or pedestals. Perched on these heights, and
condemned never to leave them, they receive their provisions and visitors in

a basket attached to the end of a long rope, and hoisted aloft by means of a
windlass. An aërial voyage of no less than 220 feet has to be performed in
order to reach in this manner the monastery of Barlaam, and visitors are at
liberty to effect this ascent by means of ladders fastened against the rocky
precipices. The religious zeal, however, which led monks to select these
eyries for their habitations is gradually dying out. Out of twenty
monasteries which existed formerly, there remain now but seven, and only
one of these, that of Meteora, is inhabited by as many as twenty monks.
Of all the Greek countries which still remain under the dominion of the
Turks, there is none which has so frequently sought to regain its
independence, none which is claimed by the Hellenes with equal ardour as a
portion of their common fatherland and the cradle of their race. Thessaly is,
in truth, a portion of Greece, as far as the traditions of the past, a common
language, and the general aspects of the country can make it so. But it is a
more fertile country, its vegetation is more luxuriant, its landscapes are
more smiling and delightful. We may not frequently meet with the deep
blue sky which calls forth our admiration in Southern Greece, for the
vapours rising from the Ægean Sea are attracted by Olympus and other
mountains; but this moisture imparts a charm to distant views, and, by
protecting the earth against the scorching rays of the sun in summer, it
contributes largely towards the fertility of the soil.
The Greek population of Thessaly is strongly mixed with foreign
elements, which it has gradually assimilated. Neither Serbs nor Bulgarians
remain now in the country, although the Upper Titaresius is known as
Vurgari, or “river of the Bulgarians.” The Zinzares, or Macedo-Walakhs,
who were so numerous in the Middle Ages, now only occupy a few
villages. Though proud of their Roman {114} descent, they gradually become
Hellenized. Most of the words by which they designate objects of civilised
life are Greek, their priests and schoolmasters preach or teach in Greek, and
they themselves speak Greek in addition to their native language. They lose
ground, moreover, through an excessive emigration. Even the cultivators of
the soil amongst them have not quite given up their nomadic habits, and the
roving life of a herdsman or of a pedlar exercises an irresistible attraction

upon them. The Turks inhabit in compact masses the lowlands around
Larissa, and that town itself is Mussulman to a large extent. The hilly tracts
to the north, between the Inje Karasu and the Lakes of Kastoria and
Ostrovo, are likewise inhabited by Turks, who differ from the Osmanli of
the rest of the empire, and are known as Koniarides. Turks also occupy a
portion of Mount Ossa. It is easy to tell from a distance whether a village is
inhabited by Turks or by Greeks. M. Mézières has observed that “the Turks
plant trees for the sake of shade, the Greeks for the sake of profit.” Near the
villages of the former we find cypresses and plane-trees, near those of the
latter orchards and vineyards. The Koniarides are believed by some authors
to have come to Thessaly and Macedonia as colonists in the eleventh
century, by invitation of the Eastern emperor. They govern themselves
through democratic representative bodies, and are respected by all, because
of their probity, their hospitality, and their rustic virtues.
The Greeks are morally inferior to the Turkish peasantry, but they surpass
them in intelligence and industry. In the seventeenth century there took
place amongst them even a sort of revival similar to the Renaissance of
Western Europe, and the love of art was developed sufficiently far to give
rise to a school of painters in the villages of Olympus. Faithful to their
national traditions and the instincts of their race, the Greeks of Thessaly
have sought to organize themselves into self-governing commonwealths. In
their free towns, or kephalokhori , they are permitted to elect their town
councils, establish schools, and appoint what teachers they like. They know
how to get the Turkish pasha not to meddle in their local affairs. They pay
the taxes demanded by the Turks, as their ancestors paid them to Athens or
some other Greek city, but in every other respect they are free citizens
governing themselves. The contrast between these independent
commonwealths and the chifliks of Mussulman proprietors cultivated by
Greek farmers is most striking. The land of the free proprietors is, as a rule,
far less fertile than that included within these chifliks; yet it produces more,
and its cultivators live in comparative ease.
The Greeks of Thessaly bestow much care upon the education of growing
generations. Even the most miserable Greek village in the Pindus can boast

of a school, which is visited by the young people up to the age of fifteen. As
an instance of the commercial spirit of the Thessalians we may mention the
Weavers’ Co-operative Association, formed in the last century in the town
of Ambelakia, delightfully situated amongst orchards and vineyards on the
southern slopes of the Valley of Tempe. This powerful association wisely
limited its dividends to six per cent., and expended the surplus profits upon
an extension of its business. For {115} many years it enjoyed the greatest
prosperity, but the wars of the empire, which closed the markets of
Germany against it, brought about its ruin. Co-operation likewise partly
accounts for the flourishing cloth manufacture of the twenty-four wealthy
Greek villages on the peninsula of Magnesia, to the north of the Gulf of
Volo. This district, together with that of Verria, to the north of the Inje
Karasu, is probably the most prosperous in all the Greek provinces of
Turkey, and it is at least partly indebted for this prosperity to its happy
32
geographical position, being far away from great strategical high-roads.

IV.—A LBANIA AND E PIRUS.
The name of S HKIPERI, which the Albanians give to the country they
inhabit, is supposed to mean “land of rocks,” and no designation could be
more appropriate. Stony mountains occupy the whole of the country, from
the frontiers of Montenegro to those of Greece. The only plain of any extent
is that of Scutari (Shkodra), to the south of the Montenegrin plateau, which
forms the natural frontier of Albania towards the north. The bottom of this
depression is occupied by the Lake of Scutari; and the Drin, the only river
of the Balkan peninsula which is navigable for a considerable distance from
the sea, debouches upon it. The Drin is formed by the junction of the White
and the Black Drin, and in former times it only discharged a portion of its
waters temporarily into the Boyana River, which drains the Lake of Scutari.
But in 1858 it opened itself a new channel opposite to the village of Miet,
about twenty miles above its mouth, and since that time the greater volume
of its waters flows in the direction of Scutari, frequently inundating the
lower quarters of that town. The marshy tracts on the Lower Drin are
dangerous to cross during the heat of summer, and the fevers of the Boyana
are the most dreaded along the whole of that coast.
Most of the southern ramifications of the Bosnian Alps are inhabited by
Albanians, but they are separated from their kinsmen in Albania proper by
the deep valley of the Drin, a kind of cañon similar to those of the Rocky
Mountains, enclosed between precipitous walls several thousand feet in
height, and hardly ever trodden by the foot of a wanderer. The mountain
systems of Bosnia and Albania are only indirectly connected by a series of
ranges and plateaux stretching from the mountain of Glieb in a south-
easterly direction as far as the Skhar, or Scardus of the ancients. The crest
of this latter runs at right angles to most of the ranges of Western Turkey,
and although its culminating point is inferior in height to those of Slav
Turkey, it is the point of junction between the Balkan and the {116}
mountain systems of Bosnia and Albania. The Skhar is of great importance,
too, in the hydrography of Turkey; for two great rivers, the Bulgarian
Morava and the Vardar, descend from its flanks, one flowing to the Danube,

the other to the Gulf of Saloniki. Chamois and wild goats are still met with
in the Skhar, as in the Pindus and Rhodope, and M. Wiet mentions an
animal known to the Mirdits as a lucerbal , which appears to be a species of
leopard.
A mountain region, hardly 3,000 feet in elevation, but exceedingly
difficult of access, rises to the west of the Skhar, on the other side of the
Black Drin: this is the citadel of Upper Albania, the country of the Mirdits
and Dukajins. Enormous masses of serpentine have erupted there through
the chalk, the valleys are hemmed in by bold precipices, and the torrents
rapidly run down the hollowed-out beds on the exterior slopes. As a rule,
the direction of the tortuous ranges of this mountain country is the same as
that of the southern spurs of the Skhar. They gradually decrease in height,
enclosing fine upland valleys, where the waters are able to accumulate. The
Lake of Okhrida, the largest sheet of water in Upper Albania, has not
inaptly been likened to the Lake of Geneva. Its waters are bluer even than
those of its Swiss rival, and more transparent, and fish may be seen chasing
each other at a depth of sixty feet beneath its surface: hence its ancient
Greek name of Lychnidos. The delightful little town of Okhrida and Mount
Pieria, with its old Roman castle, guard its shores, and the white houses of
numerous villages peep out amongst the chestnut forests which cover the
slopes of the surrounding hills. This lake is drained towards the north
through the narrow valley of the Black Drin. If the statements of the
inhabitants may be credited, the waters of the double basin of Lake Presba
reach Lake Okhrida through subterranean channels.
The isolated peak of Tomor commands this lake region on the west. To
the south of it commences the chain of the Pindus, locally known as
Grammos. At first of moderate height, and crossed by numerous mountain
roads affording easy communication between Albania and Macedonia, these
mountains gradually increase in height as we proceed south, and exactly to
the east of Yanina they form the mountain mass of Metzovo, with which the
Pindus, properly so called, takes its rise. This mountain mass is inferior in
altitude to the peaks of Bosnia or Northern Albania, but it is far more
picturesque than either, its slopes being covered with forests of conifers and

beech-trees, and the plains extending along its foot having a more southern
aspect. Mount Zygos, or Lachmon, which rises in the centre of this
mountain mass, does not afford a very extended panorama, but if we climb
the craggy peaks of the Peristera-Vuna, or Smolika, near it, we are able to
look at the same time upon the waters of the Ægean and Ionian Seas, and
even the shore of Greece may be descried beyond the Gulf of Arta.
A famous lake occupies the bottom of the limestone basin at the western
foot of the mountain mass of Metzovo. This is the Lake of Yanina, and
nowhere else throughout Epirus do we meet with an equal number of
natural curiosities as on the shores of this lake. Its depth is inconsiderable,
nowhere exceeding forty feet, and it is fed only by numerous springs rising
at the foot of the rocks. There is no {117} visible outlet; but Colonel Leake
assures us that each of the two basins into which it is divided is drained by a
subterranean channel. The northern lake pours its waters into a sink, or
voinikova , and reappears towards the south-west as a considerable river,
which flows into the Ionian Sea. This is the Thyamis of the ancients, our
modern Kalamas. Farther to the south the ancient Acheron bursts from the
rocks, and having received the nauseous waters of the equally famous
Cocytus, throws itself into the “bay of sweet waters,” thus called on account
of the large volume of water discharged into it by rivers.

Fig. 36.—S OUTHERN E PIRUS. Μ
According to Kiepert. Scale 1 : 1,400,000.

When the waters of the southern and larger basin of Lake Yanina are low,
there is but a single effluent, which plunges down into an abyss, and in
doing so turns the wheels of a mill. The Cyclopean ruins of the Pelasgic city
of Hellas command this huge chasm with its roaring waters. The
subterranean river reappears far to the south, and flows into the Gulf of
Arta. But when the level of the lake is high, four other sinks swallow up its
superabundant waters, and convey them into the main channel, the direction
of which is indicated by a few small lakes. The important part played in the
mythology of ancient Greece by these subterranean effluents, and
particularly by the infernal Acheron and the Cocytus, amply proves the
influence exercised by the Pelasgians upon the civilisation of the Hellenes.
The myths of the Hellopians became the common property of all Greece,

and {118} there was no temple in all Hellas more venerated than their
sanctuary at Dodona, where the future might be foretold by listening to the
rustling of the leaves of sacred oaks. This sacred grove existed, probably,
near one of the Cyclopean towns so numerous in the country, if not on the
shore of the lake itself. Some, erroneously no doubt, have looked for it near
the castle inhabited in the beginning of this century by Ali Tepeleni, the
terrible Pasha of Epirus, who boasted of being a “lighted torch, devouring
man.”
The mountains of Suli, to the west of the basin of Yanina, attain an
altitude of 3,500 feet, but the neighbouring hills are of moderate height,
though abrupt and difficult of access, and near the coast they sink down into
small rocky promontories, scantily clothed with shrubs and overrun by
jackals. Swamps abound near the shore, and during summer their miasmatic
air spreads over the neighbouring villages. To the north of the swamps of
Butrinto and of the channel of Corfu, and to the west of the isolated peak of
Kundusi, however, the coast rises again, and the austere chain of the
Chimæra Mala, or Acroceraunii, extends along it. It was dreaded by the
ancients on account of its tempests, and the torrents which poured down its
sides. Squalls and changes of wind are frequent near the “Tongue
(Linguetta) of Rocks,” the most advanced promontory of this coast, at the
entrance to the Adriatic Sea. These are the “infamous rocks” referred to by
the Roman poet, upon which many a vessel suffered shipwreck. The
channel which separates Turkey at that place from Italy has a width of only
45 miles; it is less than 100 fathoms in depth, and at some former period an
33
isthmus may have united the two countries.
The Shkipetars, or Albanians, are subdivided into two leading tribes or
nations, the Tosks and the Gheges, both of whom are no doubt descended
from the ancient Pelasgians, but have in many places become mixed with
Slavs, Bulgarians, and Rumanians, and perhaps even with other nations; for
whilst in some tribes we meet with the purest Hellenic types, there are
others the members of which are repulsively ugly. The Gheges are the
purest of their race, and they occupy, under various tribal names, the whole
of Northern Albania as far as the river Shkumbi. The territory of the Tosks

extends from that river southward. The dialects of these two nations differ
much, and it is not easy for an Acroceraunian to understand a Mirdit or
other Albanian from the north. Gheges and Tosks detest each other. In the
Turkish army they are kept separated for fear of their coming to blows, and,
when an insurrection has to be suppressed amongst them, the Turkish
Government always avails itself of these tribal jealousies, and is certain of
being served with the zeal and fury which hatred inspires.

ALBANIANS.

Up to the period of the migration of the barbarians, the whole of Western
Turkey, as far as the Danube, was held by Albanians. But they were then
pushed back, and Albania was entirely occupied by Servians and
Bulgarians. {119} The names of numerous localities throughout the country
recall that period of obscuration, during which the name of an indigenous

race was not even mentioned by the historian. But when the Osmanli had
broken the power of the Serb, the Albanians again raised their heads, and
ever since they have kept encroaching upon their Slav neighbours. In the
north they have gradually descended into the valley of the Bulgarian
Morava, and one of their colonies has even penetrated into independent
Servia. Like the waters of a rising ocean, they overwhelm the detached
tracts of territory still occupied by Servians. This progress of the Albanians
is explained, to a great extent, by the voluntary expatriation of the Servians.
Thousands of them, headed by their patriarchs, fled to Hungary, in order to
escape the dominion of the Turks, and the Albanians occupied the wastes
they left behind. The Servians still hold their ground near Acroceraunia, on
the shores of Lake Okhrida, and in the hills looking down upon the fatal
plain of Kosovo, where their ancestors were massacred; but they gradually
become Albanians in language, religion, and customs. They speak of
themselves as Turks, as do the Arnauts, and apply the name of Servian only
to the Christians dwelling beyond the frontier. On the other hand, many of
the customs of the Gheges agree in a remarkable manner with those of their
Slav neighbours, and this proves that there has taken place a thorough
blending of the two races.
But whilst the Albanians are gaining ground in the north, they are losing
it in the south. A large portion of the inhabitants of Southern Albania,
though undoubtedly of Pelasgic origin, are Greek by language. Arta,
Yanina, and Prevesa are Hellenized towns, and only a few Mo­ham­me­dan
families there still speak Albanian. Nearly the whole of the tract between
the Pindus and the Adriatic coast ranges has become Greek as far as
language goes, and throughout the mountain region extending westward to
the sea the inhabitants are “bilingual;” that is to say, they speak two
languages. The famous Suliotes, for instance, who talk Tosk within the
bosom of their family, make use of Greek in their intercourse with
strangers. Wherever the two races come into contact, it is always the
Albanian who takes the trouble to learn Greek.
This influence of the Hellenes is all the more powerful as it meets with
support amongst the Zinzares, known also as Macedo-Walakhs, “Limping”

Walakhs, or Southern Rumanians, who are met with throughout the country.
These Zinzares are the kinsmen of the Rumanians of Wallachia and
Moldavia, and live in a compact body only on the two slopes of the Pindus,
to the south and east of the Lake of Yanina. Like the Rumanians of the
Danube, they are most probably Latinised Dacians. They resemble the
Walakhs in features, character, and disposition, and speak a neo-Latin
tongue much mixed with Greek. The Zinzares in the valleys of the Pindus
are, for the most part, herdsmen, and wander away from their villages
sometimes for months. Others carry on trades, exhibiting much manual skill
and intelligence. Nearly all the bricklayers of Turkey, those of the large
towns excepted, are Zinzares; and the same individual sometimes erects an
entire house, doing in turn the work of architect, carpenter, joiner, {120} and
locksmith. The Rumanians of the Pindus are likewise esteemed as clever
goldsmiths.
Their capacity for business is great, and the commerce of the interior of
Turkey is almost entirely in their hands, as is that of the maritime districts
in those of the Greeks. The Walakhs of Metzovo are said to have stood
formerly under the direct protection of the Porte, and every traveller,
whether Mussulman or Christian, was bound to unshoe his horses before he
left their territory, for fear “of his carrying away a clod of earth which did
not belong to him.” Commercial houses conducted by Walakhs of the
Pindus are met with in every town of the Orient, and even at Vienna one of
the most influential banks has been founded by one of them. Abroad they
are generally taken for Greeks, and the wealthier amongst them send their
children to Athens to be educated. Surrounded by Mussulmans, the Zinzares
of the Pindus feel the necessity of attaching themselves to some country
through which they might obtain their freedom, and they hope for a union
with Greece. It is only quite recently that they have learnt to look upon the
Rumanians of the North and the Italians as their kinsmen. They do not,
however, set much store upon their nationality, and have no aspirations as a
distinct race. There can be no doubt that in the course of ages many of these
Macedo-Walakhs have become Hellenized. Nearly all Thessaly was
inhabited by Zinzares in the Middle Ages, and Byzantine authors speak of

that country as “Great Wallachia.” Whether these Zinzares have emigrated
to Rumania, as some think, or have become assimilated with the Greeks, the
fact remains that at the present day they are not very numerous on the
eastern slopes of the Pindus. Thousands of Rumanian families have settled
in the coast towns, at Avlona, Berat, and Tirana, embracing Mo­ham­me­‐
danism, but still retaining their native idiom.
If we exclude these Zinzares, the Greeks of Epirus, the Servians, and the
few Osmanli dwelling in the large towns, there remain only the semi-
barbarous Gheges and Tosks, whose social condition has hardly undergone
any change in the course of three thousand years. In their manners and
modes of thought these modern Albanians are the true successors of the
ancient Pelasgians, and many a scene that a traveller may witness amongst
them carries him back to the days of the Odyssey. G. von Hahn, who has
most thoroughly studied the Shkipetars, looks upon them as veritable
Dorians, whose ancestors, led by the Heraclidæ, burst forth from the forests
of Epirus to conquer the Peloponnesus. They are as courageous, as warlike,
as fond of dominion, and as clannish as were their ancestors. Their dress,
likewise, is nearly the same, and the white tunic (fustanelle ) neatly fastened
round the waist fairly represents the ancient chlamys . The Gheges, like the
Dorians of old, are addicted to that mysterious passion which the historians
of antiquity have confounded, unfortunately, with a nameless vice, and
which links men to children by a pure and ideal love, in which the senses
have no part.
There is no modern people respecting whom more astounding acts of
bravery are recorded than of the Albanians. In the fifteenth century they had
their Scanderbeg, who, though the theatre of his glory was more
circumscribed than that of his namesake of Macedonia, was hardly inferior
to him in genius, and {121} certainly surpassed him in justness and goodness
of heart. Or what nation has ever exceeded in courage the Suliote
mountaineers, amongst whom not an aged man, a woman, or a child was
found to beg for mercy from Ali Pasha’s executioners? The heroism of these
Suliote women, who set fire to the ammunition waggons, and then hand in
hand precipitated themselves from the rocks, or sought death in the

mountain torrents, chanting their own funeral song, will at all times stand
forth in history as an astounding fact.
This valour, unfortunately, is associated amongst many tribes with a
fearful amount of savageness. Human life is held cheap amongst these
warlike populations; blood calls for blood, and victim for victim. They
believe in vampires and phantoms, and occasionally an old man has been
burnt alive, on suspicion of his being able to kill by the breath of his mouth.
Slavery does not exist, but woman is held in a state of servitude; she is
looked upon as an inferior being, having no rights or mind of her own.
Custom raises a more formidable barrier between the sexes than do walls
and locked doors elsewhere. A young girl is not permitted to speak to a
young man; such an act is looked upon as a crime, which her father or
brother may feel called upon to punish by a deed of blood. The parents
sometimes consult the wishes of their son when about to marry him, but
never those of their daughter. The latter is frequently affianced in her cradle,
and, when twelve years of age, she is handed over to a young man on his
presenting a wedding outfit and a sum of money fixed by custom, and
averaging twenty shillings. From that moment he becomes the absolute
master of his bride, though not without first going through the farce of an
abduction, as is customary amongst nearly all ancient nations. The poor
woman, thus sold like a slave, is bound to work for her husband. She is his
housekeeper as well as his labourer, and the national poets compare her to
the “ever-active shuttle,” whilst the father of the family is likened to the
“majestic ram marching at the head of the flock.” Yet woman, scorned
though she be, and brutalised by heavy work, may traverse the whole
country without fear of being insulted, and the life of an unfortunate who
places himself under her protection is held sacred.
Family ties are very powerful amongst the Albanians. The father retains
the rights of sovereign lord up to an advanced age, and as long as he lives
the earnings of his children and grandchildren are his own. Frequently this
communism continues after his death, the eldest son taking his place. The
loss of a member of the family, and particularly of a young man, gives rise
to fearful lamentations amongst the women, who frequently swoon away,

and even lose their senses. But the death of persons who have reached the
natural limits of human life is hardly mourned at all. The descendants of the
same ancestor never lose sight of their parentage. They form clans, called
phis or pharas , which are bound firmly together for purposes of defence or
attack, or in the pursuit of their common interests. Brotherhood by election
is known amongst the Albanians, as well as amongst the Servians and other
ancient nations, and its ties are as strong as those of blood. Young men
desirous of becoming brothers bind themselves by solemn vows in the
presence of their families, and, having opened a vein, they {122} drink each
other’s blood. The need of these family bonds is felt so strongly in Albania,
that young people brought up together frequently remain united during the
remainder of their lives, forming a regular community, having its days of
meetings, its festivals, and a common purse.
But in spite of these family associations and clans, in spite of the
enthusiastic love which the Albanian bears his native land, there exists no
political cohesion amongst the various tribes. The physical conditions of the
country, no less than an unhappy passion for war, have scattered their
forces, and rendered them unable, consequently, to maintain their
independence. The religious animosities between Mussulman and Christian,
Greek and Roman Catholic, have contributed to the like result.
It is generally supposed that the majority of the Albanians are Mo­ham­me­‐
dans. When the Turks became masters of the country the most valiant
amongst them fled to Italy, and the greater part of the tribes that remained
behind were compelled to embrace Islamism. Many of the chiefs, moreover,
turned Mussulmans, in order that they might continue their life of
brigandage, on pretence of carrying on a holy war. This accounts for the
fact of the aristocracy of the country being for the most part Mo­ham­me­dan,
and in possession of the land. The Christian peasant who tills it is nominally
a free man, but in reality he is at the mercy of his lord, who keeps him at the
point of starvation. These Albanian Mussulmans, however, are fanatic
warriors rather than religious zealots, and many of their ceremonies,
particularly those connected with their native land, differ in nothing from
those of their Christian compatriots. They have been converted, but not

convinced, and cynically they say of themselves that their “sword is
wherever their faith is.”
In many districts the conversion has been nominal only, and zealous
Christians have continued to conduct their worship in secret. Many Mo­ham­‐
me­dans of this class returned to the faith of their fathers as soon as the
tolerance of Government permitted them to do so. As to the warlike
mountain clans, the Mirdits, Suliotes, and Acroceraunians, they had no need
to bend to the will of the Turks, and remained Greek or Roman Christians.
The boundary between Gheges and Tosks coincides approximately with the
boundary between these two denominations, the Roman Catholics living to
the north of the Shkumbi, the orthodox Greeks to the south of the river. The
Hellenes and Zinzares in Southern Albania are orthodox Greeks. The hatred
between these two denominations of Christians is intense, and this is the
principal reason why the Albanians have not succeeded in regaining their
independence, as have the Servians.
Southern Albania and Epirus had feudal institutions up to the close of last
century. The chiefs of the clans and the semi-independent Turkish pashas
lived in strong castles perched upon the rocks, from which they descended
from time to time, followed by bands of servitors. War existed in
permanence, and property changed hands continuously, according to the
fortunes of the sword. Ali the Terrible, of Yanina, put a stop to this state of
affairs. He reduced high and low to the same level of servitude, and the
central Government now wields the power formerly exercised by lords and
heads of families. {123}
If we would become acquainted with a social condition recalling the
Middle Ages, we must go amongst the independent tribes of Northern
Albania. On crossing the Matis we at once perceive a change. Every one
goes armed; shepherds and labourers carry a carbine on the shoulder; and
even women and children place a pistol in their belts. Families, clans, and
tribes have a military organization, and at a moment’s notice are ready to
take the field. A sheep missing in a flock, an insult offered in the heat of
passion, may lead to war. Not long since the Montenegrin was the most
frequent disturber of the peace, for, shut up in his sterile mountains, he was

often obliged to turn brigand in order to sustain life, and laid under
contribution the fields of his neighbours. The Turks have at all times
nourished this hatred between Albanians and Montenegrins. They
recompense the warlike services of the tribes of the border clans by
exempting them from taxation, and allowing them to govern themselves
according to their own laws. Let these immunities be touched, and they will
make common cause with their hereditary foes of the Black Mountains.
The Mirdits are typical of the independent tribes of Northern Albania.
They inhabit the high valleys to the south of the gorge of the Drin, and,
though hardly numbering 12,000 souls, they exercise, in consequence of
their warlike valour, a most important influence in all Western Turkey. Their
country is accessible only through three difficult defiles, and they hold
command of the roads which the Turkish troops must follow when
operating against the Montenegrins. The Sublime Porte, well aware how
difficult it would be to subdue these redoubtable mountaineers, has
endeavoured to attach them, showering honours upon them, and granting
them the most complete self-government. The Mirdits, on their side, though
Christians, have at all times fought most valiantly in the ranks of the
Turkish army, in Greece and the Morea, as well as against their fellow-
Christians of Montenegro. They are formed into three “banners” of the
mountains and two of the plains, and in time of war are joined by the five
banners of Lesh, or Alessio. The banner of the renowned clan of Orosh
takes precedence of all others.
The country of the Mirdits is governed by an oligarchy, of which the
Prince or Pasha of Orosh is the hereditary head. His power, however, is
merely nominal, for in reality the country is governed by a council
consisting of the elders (vecchiardi ) of the villages, the delegates of the
banners, and the heads of clans. The proceedings of this council are
regulated by ancient traditions. Wives are taken by force from the enemy,
for the members of the five banners look upon each other as relatives, and
the Mo­ham­me­dan girls in the lowland villages look forward with little fear
to their being carried off by Mirdit warriors. The vendetta is exercised in an
inexorable manner, and blood cries for blood. A violation of hospitality is

punished with death. The adulteress is buried beneath a heap of stones, and
her nearest relative is bound to deliver the head of her accomplice to the
injured husband. It need hardly be said that education is at a very low ebb
amongst these savages. There are no schools, and in 1860 hardly fifty
Christians of the Mirdit country and of the district of Lesh were able to {124}
read. Agriculture, nevertheless, is in a relatively advanced state. The valleys
of the sterile mountains are cultivated with a certain amount of care, and
they produce finer crops than do the fertile plains, inhabited by an indolent
population.
By a strange contrast, these direct descendants of the ancient Pelasgians,
to whom we are indebted for the beginning of civilisation in Europe, still
number amongst the most savage populations of our continent. But they,
too, must yield in time to the influence of their surroundings. Until recently
the Epirotes and southern Shkipetars left their country only in order to lead
the easy but degrading life of mercenaries. In the last century the young
men of Acroceraunia sold themselves to the King of Naples, to be embodied
in his regiment of “Royal Macedonians;” and even in our own days not only
Mo­ham­me­dans, but also Christian Tosks, enter the service of pashas and
beys. These men, known as Arnauts, may be met with in the most remote
parts of the empire—in Armenia, at Bagdad, and in Arabia. On the
expiration of their term of service, the majority of these veterans retire to
estates granted them by Government, and this accounts for the large number
of Arnaut villages met with in all parts of the empire.
But wars are less frequent now, the life of a mercenary offers fewer
advantages, and increasing numbers of Albanians leave their country
annually in order to gain a living abroad by honest labour. Like the Swiss of
the canton of Grisons, many Shkipetars descend from their mountains at the
commencement of winter in order to work for wages in the plains. Most of
these return to their mountain homes in spring, enriched by their earnings;
but there are others who remain abroad for years, or who never return. The
advantages of a division of labour appear to be well understood by these
mountaineers of Epirus and Southern Albania, and each mountain valley is
noted for the exercise of some special craft. One valley sends forth

butchers, another bakers, a third gardeners. A village near Argyrokastro
supplies Constantinople with most of its well-sinkers. The district of Zagori,
perhaps the home of the ancient Asclepiads, sends its doctors, or rather
“bone-setters,” into every town of Turkey. Many of these emigrants, when
they become wealthy, return to their native land, where they build
themselves fine houses in the midst of sterile mountains, and these take the
places of the old seigneurial towers, which were erected only for purposes
of defence.

WEALTHY ARNAUTS.

The Albanians are thus being carried along by a general movement of
progress, and if once they enter into the common life of Europe, we may
expect them to play a prominent part, for they possess a penetrating mind
and much strength of character. The Albanians enjoy the advantage of
having ready access to the sea, but hitherto they have derived only small

benefit from it, not only owing to the disturbed state of the country and the
absence of roads, but also because of the alluvial deposits formed by the
rivers and the malaria of the marshes. Still, making every allowance for
these disadvantages, they hardly account for the almost entire absence of
maritime enterprise. One would scarcely fancy these Epirotes and Gheges
to be of the same race as those Hydriote corsairs who launched whole fleets
upon the waters of the Archipelago at the time of the war for Hellenic
independence, and who still maintain the foremost place amongst the
mariners of {125} Greece. The ports of Albania—Antivari, Porto Medua
(one of the safest on the Adriatic), Durazzo, Avlona, Parga (lost in a forest
of citron-trees), and even strong Prevesa, surrounded by more than a
hundred thousand olive-trees—can boast but of a trifling commerce, and
two-thirds of that are carried on in Austrian vessels from Trieste. With the
exception of the Acroceraunians and the inhabitants of Dulcigno, which is
the port of Scutari, no Mo­ham­me­dan Albanian ventures upon the sea, not
even as a fisherman. In spite of the fertility of the soil, there are hardly any
articles to export. The mines of the country are unexplored, agriculture is in
a most backward state, and in Epirus hardly any industry is known except
the rearing of sheep and goats.
At the time of the Romans these countries were equally forsaken. There
was one magnificent city, Nicopolis, built by Augustus on a promontory to
the north of the modern Prevesa to commemorate his victory at Actium. The
only other town of importance was Dyrrhachium, called Durazzo by the
Italians. It formed the terminus of the Via Egnatia, which traversed the
whole of the Balkan peninsula from west to east, and constituted the great
highway between Italy and the Orient. Avlona may aspire one day to take
the place of ancient Dyrrhachium. Its geographical position is superior to
that of Durazzo, for it is nearer to Italy, and its deep and secure harbour
enjoys the shelter of the island of Suseno and of the Linguetta of
Acroceraunia.
In the meantime all the commerce of the country is concentrated in
Scutari and Yanina, and in some other towns of the interior. The most
considerable amongst the latter are Prisrend, at the foot of the Skhar, whose

nobles boast of their magnificent dresses and fine weapons; Ipek (Pech),
Prishtina, Jakovitza (Yakova), in the north-eastern portion of the country,
and on roads which lead from Macedonia into Bosnia. Nearer the coast are
Tirana, Berat, and Elbasan, the ancient Albanon, whose name recalls that of
the entire country. Gyorcha (Koritza), to the south of the Lake of Okhrida,
is likewise a place of much trade, thanks to its position on a road joining the
Adriatic to the Ægean Sea. Scutari and Yanina occupy sites at the foot of
the mountains, whose natural advantages could not fail to attract a
numerous population. Yanina, the capital of Epirus, is the more picturesque
of these two cities. It is situated on the shore of a fine lake, opposite the
somewhat heavy masses of the Pindus, but in sight of the mountains of
Greece, which are of a “luminous grey, glittering like a tissue of silk.” At
the time of Ali Pasha, Yanina became the capital of an empire, and its
population then exceeded that of Scutari. But the latter has now regained its
pre-eminence. It is admirably situated, and the roads from the Danube and
the Ægean, from the Lower Drin and the Adriatic, converge upon it. Scutari,
or Shkodra, is the first oriental city which a traveller coming from Italy
meets with, and the first impression made by its numerous gardens enclosed
by high walls, its deserted streets and irregular buildings, is sufficiently
curious. Long after he has entered the town, the traveller will remain
uncertain as to its whereabouts. But let him climb to the summit of the
limestone rock surmounted by the old Venetian castle of Rosapha, and the
most magnificent panorama will {126} unfold itself before his eyes. The
domes of Scutari, its twenty minarets, the emerald verdure of the plain, the
surrounding amphitheatre of fantastically shaped mountains, the winding
waters of the Boyana and Drin, and the placid surface of the lake glittering
in the sun—these all combine to produce a spectacle of rare magnificence.
The sea alone is wanting to render this picture perfect, but, though near, it is
34
not within sight.

V.—T HE I LLYRIAN A LPS, B OSNIA, AND H ERZEGOVINA.
Bosnia, in the north-western corner of Turkey, is the Switzerland of the
European Orient, but it is a Switzerland whose mountains do not reach the
zone of perennial snow and ice. In many respects the mountain ranges of
Bosnia, and of its southern province, the Herzegovina, resemble those of
the Jura. They, too, are composed principally of limestone, and rise in
parallel ridges, surmounted here and there by sharp crests. Like the
successive ridges of the Jura, they are of unequal height, and, taken as a
whole, assume the appearance of a plateau traversed by parallel furrows,
and gently sloping in one direction. The most elevated chain of Northern
Bosnia is that which separates it from the coast of Dalmatia, and the less
elevated ridges running parallel with it gradually decrease in height towards
the north-east, in the direction of the plains of the Save.
Rocks not belonging to the Jurassic system, such as crystalline slates,
dolomites, tertiary deposits, and serpentine, are met with in various
localities, and impart some variety to the orographical features of Bosnia.
Several crater-shaped depressions in the east and south-east separate the
mountains of Bosnia from the mountain masses of Servia. The most
remarkable amongst these plains is that of Novibazar, into which numerous
torrents discharge themselves, and which commands roads diverging in
various directions. This is the strategical key of the country, and is destined
on this account to become an important railway junction.

TURKISH MULETEERS IN THE HERZEGOVINA.

Nearly all the mountain ranges which pass from Carniola and Austrian
Croatia into Bosnia increase in height as we advance towards the centre of
the peninsula. The bleached pyramid of the Durmitor, close to the northern
frontier of Montenegro, attains an elevation of nearly 8,000 feet, and the
plateau surrounding it is cut up by deep cavities, some of which, like the
troughs of the Herzegovina, open out in one direction, whilst others are
completely shut in by declivities. The Prokletya, or “cursed” mountain, still
farther to the south-east, rises to a height even more considerable, and
constitutes one of the most formidable mountain masses of all Turkey. A
huge depression occupies its centre, the bottom of which is covered by the
Lake of Plava. Even in summer patches of snow may be seen on some of
the mountains which surround this abyss. But Mount Kom, the {127} highest
of all, never retains its cap of snow during the whole of the year, for it melts
away before the hot African winds to which it is exposed. Mount Kom may

possibly turn out to be the culminating point of the Balkan peninsula. It is
certainly one of the highest summits, and its double peak, rising above the
plateau of Montenegro, is descried from afar by the mariner navigating the
Adriatic. It has been ascended by several travellers, for its slopes are
35
gentle.
The rivers of Bosnia, like those of the Jura, flow between parallel
mountain ranges towards the north-east, along the furrows traced out for
them by nature. But these calcareous mountain ramparts of Bosnia, like
those of the Jura, are broken up by narrow gorges, or cluses , through which
the pent up waters find a way from furrow to furrow. Instead of taking a
serpentine course, as do most rivers flowing through a plain, these rivers of
Bosnia change from valley to valley by abrupt bends. Gentle and furious in
turns, they gradually reach the lower regions, and are finally swallowed up
by the Save. Only one river, the Narenta, finds its way into the Adriatic; all
others, in accordance with the general slope of the country, flow in the
direction of the Danube. These river valleys, with their sudden turnings,
would be available as natural roads for reaching the plateau, if most of the
gorges were not exceedingly difficult of access; and until regular roads have
been constructed, as in the cluses of the Jura, travellers are obliged to scale
steep heights in order to pass from valley to valley. It is this want of
practicable roads which renders military operations in Bosnia so difficult
and perilous.
Great armies have at all times remained to the east of the mountain
masses referred to, passing from the valley of the Vardar into that of the
Morava, whose springs almost intermingle their waters. In that locality we
meet with the bed of an ancient lake, through which flows the Sitnitza, one
of the upper tributaries of the Servian Morava: this is the plain of Kosovo,
the “field of black birds,” which reminds all southern Slavs of painful
events. It was there the power of the Servians succumbed in 1389, and, if
we may credit ancient heroic songs, more than 100,000 men perished in a
single day. Five hundred years have passed away since this great disaster,
but the Slavs have never ceased to hope for a day of vengeance, and they

look forward to the time when on this very field they may reconquer the
independence they have lost.
The similarity between the mountains of Bosnia and of the Jura is
rendered complete by the existence of grottoes, sink-holes, and
subterranean rivers. Sink-holes from 60 to 100 feet in diameter, and shaped
like funnels, are met with in many localities. Several rivers appear suddenly
at the foot of a hill, and, after flowing on for a few miles, disappear again
beneath some portal in the rocks. The table-land of the Herzegovina
especially abounds in phenomena of this kind. The ground there is pierced
by “sinks,” or ponors , which swallow up the water derived from
precipitation. “Blind valleys” and “troughs” present everywhere the traces
of currents of water and of temporary lakes, and after heavy rains the
subterranean basins sometimes rise to the surface, and a river then flows for
a time along the valley. As a rule, however, the inhabitants are compelled to
{128} collect the water they require in cisterns, or to fetch it from long
distances. Elsewhere the hydrography of the country is subject to annual
changes. Lakes which still figure upon our maps are drained through
subterranean passages only recently opened; other lakes are formed in
consequence of some passage, which formerly carried off the surface water,
having become choked with alluvium. No more curious river probably
exists in the world than the Trebinishtitza, in the Western Herzegovina. It
appears and disappears many times. One of its branches, flowing at one
time on the surface, at others underground, crosses the plains of Kotesi, in
turns a parched champaign country or a lake abounding in fish, and enters
the Narenta. Other branches pass beneath the mountains, and gush out near
the shores of the Adriatic. One of the most famous of these springs is that of
Ombra, which pours its waters into the Bay of Gravosa, to the north of
Ragusa.

Fig. 37.—S UBTERRANEAN B EDS OF THE A FFLUENTS OF THE N ARENTA. Μ
Scale 1 : 1,925,000.

“Where the rocks finish and the trees appear, there begins Bosnia.” So
said the Dalmatians formerly. But many parts of Bosnia have now lost their
clothing of verdure. The table-lands of the Herzegovina and Montenegro,
no less than Dalmatia, have been despoiled of their forests, but Bosnia
proper still remains a country of woods. Nearly one-half its area is covered
with forests. In the valleys trees have almost disappeared, for the peasant is
allowed to wield his axe {129} without hindrance, but in the virgin forests of
the mountains trees still abound. The principal trees of Europe are met with
in these magnificent woods: walnut-trees, chestnut-trees, limes, maples,
oaks, beeches, ash-trees, birches, pines, firs, and larches. Austrian
speculators, unfortunately, avail themselves of the roads which begin to
open up the interior of the country to devastate these forests, which ought to

be preserved with the greatest care. The song of birds is but rarely heard in
these sombre woods, but wild animals abound in them. They shelter bears,
wild boars, and deer, and the number of wolves is so large that their skins
form one of the most important articles of Bosnian commerce. Taken as a
whole, Bosnia ranks among the most fertile countries of Europe, and few
regions surpass it in the beauty of its rural scenery. In some parts of the
country, and particularly near the Save, large herds of hogs, almost wild,
roam through the oak forests. Hence the epithet of “country of hogs” which
the Turks have derisively given to Bosnia.
With the exception of the Jews, the gipsies, and the few Osmanli
officials, soldiers, and merchants in the principal towns, the entire
population of the country is of Slav race. The inhabitants of Kraina, near the
Austrian frontier, call themselves Croats, but they scarcely differ from the
Bosnian Servians and Raitzes of ancient Rascia, now known as the sandjak
of Novibazar. On the classical soil of Rascia originated most of those
cherished piesmas , or popular songs, in which the Southern Slavs have
deposited their national traditions. The Herzegovinians, in some respects,
differ from their Bosnian kinsmen. They are the descendants of immigrants
who came from the banks of the Vistula in the seventh century. Like their
neighbours the Montenegrins, they are more voluble in their speech than the
Servians proper, and make use of numerous peculiar turns of expression and
a few words of Italian which have glided into their language.
Although most of the Bosnians are of the same race, they are divided by
religious animosities, and these account for their state of political servitude.
At the first glance it may cause surprise that the Slavs of Bosnia should not
have succeeded in throwing off the Turkish yoke, like their kinsmen of
Servia. Their country is more remote from the capital, and far less
accessible than Servia. A conquering army coming from the south has not
only to force numerous defiles, but has to contend, too, with the climate,
which is far more severe than that of the remainder of the Balkan peninsula.
But, in spite of these great natural advantages from a defensive point of
view, every revolt has hitherto failed lamentably. We need not seek far for
the cause of this: Christian and Mo­ham­me­dan Bosnians are at enmity, and

the Christians themselves are split up into Greeks, who are led by their
popes , and Romans, who follow blindly their Franciscan priests. In their
divided state they fall an easy prey to their oppressors, and servitude has
degraded their character.
The Mussulmans of Bosnia call themselves Turks, but they are Slavs
nevertheless, like their Christian compatriots, and, like them, speak Servian
with a large admixture of Turkish words. They are the descendants of the
nobles who, in {130} the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, embraced
Islamism in order to save their feudal privileges. They also number amongst
their ranks the descendants of brigands, who changed their religion in order
to be able to continue their trade without fear of punishment. This apostacy
gave to the lords even greater power over their wretched dependants than
they had formerly possessed. The hatred of caste was augmented by
religious animosity, and they soon surpassed in fanaticism the Mo­ham­me­‐
dan Turks, and reduced the Christian peasantry to a condition of veritable
slavery. A wild pear-tree is still pointed out near one of the gates of
Sarayevo, upon which the notables occasionally suspended some
unfortunate raya for their amusement. Whether beys or spahis, these Mo­‐
ham­me­dan Bosnians are the most retrograde element of old Turkey, and on
several occasions, as in 1851, they even rose up in rebellion in order to
maintain intact their ancient feudal privileges. Sarayevo, as a Mussulman
city, stood under the special protection of the Sultan’s mother, and
possessed most extravagant privileges, which converted it into a state in the
state more hostile to Christianity than the Sublime Porte itself.
Even in our own days the Bosnian Mussulmans possess far more than
their proper share of the land. The country is divided into spahiliks , or
Mussulman fiefs, which are transmitted, in accordance with the custom of
the Slavs, indivisibly to all the members of the family. The latter choose the
most aged or most valorous of their members as their head. The Christian
peasants are compelled to work for these Mussulman communities; and,
although no longer serfs, they are called upon to bear the chief burden of
taxation and of other expenses. It is natural, under these circumstances, that
the Christians of Bosnia should shun agriculture in order to devote

themselves to trade, and nearly the whole of the commerce is in the hands
of the Christians of the Herzegovina and of their co-religionists from
Slavonian Austria. The Spanish Jews form communities in the principal
towns, where they carry on their usual commercial pursuits and money-
lending on tangible securities. They still talk Spanish amongst themselves,
and never mention without emotion the name of the country which sent
them into exile.
The number of Mussulmans hardly exceeds one-third of the total
population of Bosnia, and they are said to remain stationary, or even to
36
diminish, whilst the more fecund Christians increase in numbers.
For the rest, the Bosnians, in spite of the differences in their religious
belief, possess the same natural gifts as their Servian kinsmen, and,
whatever destinies may be in store for them, they will in the end rise to the
same level of intelligence. They are frank and hospitable, brave in battle,
industrious, thrifty, of a poetical turn, fast as friends, and true as lovers. The
marital ties are respected, {131} and even the Mussulmans reject the
polygamy permitted by the Koran. In the Herzegovina the women enjoy
much liberty, and in many villages there are even back doors to the houses,
in order that they may be able to gossip with their neighbours without going
into the street. In Northern Bosnia, however, the Mussulman women are
wrapped up closely in white linen sheets, and are hardly able to see a few
steps before them. But, in spite of these good qualities, there exists an
amount of barbarity, ignorance, superstition, and fanaticism, amongst
Christians and Mo­ham­me­dans alike, which is truly astounding. Incessant
wars, tyranny on the one side, and servitude on the other, have brutalised
their manners. The want of roads, the extensive forests, and the precipitous
mountains have placed them beyond the reach of civilising influences.
There are hardly any schools, and the few monasteries which supply their
places are of little use, for the monks themselves are steeped in ignorance,
and their pupils at most learn to chant a few hymns. Besides this, the
immense consumption of slibovitza undermines the health of the people
and demoralises them, and it has been estimated that every Bosnian—man,

woman, or child—drinks annually no less than thirty-four pints of this
detestable plum-brandy.
It may be matter for surprise that bustling towns should exist in so rude a
country, but the natural resources of Bosnia are so great that a certain
amount of local trade was sure to spring up. Isolated as they are, the
Bosnians are thrown upon their own resources. They grind their own flour,
manufacture their arms, stuffs, and iron implements, and the exchange of
these commodities has given rise to commerce in the cities most favourably
situated as entrepôts, the principal amongst which are Sarayevo, or Bosna
Serai, and Travnik, the ancient capital of the country, picturesquely situated
at the foot of an ancient castle. Banyaluka, which is connected with Austria
by a railway, has some trade with Croatia; Tuzla extracts salt from its
abundant brine springs; Zvornik, which guards the frontier of Servia, also
carries on some trade with that country; Novibazar has commercial
relations with Albania; Mostar and Trebinye import a few articles from
Dalmatia. The populations of these towns have not, however, been solely
attracted by trade and industry, for the insecurity of the country has also
contributed to that result. There is no part of Europe, the neighbouring
Albania and the polar regions of Scandinavia and Russia excepted, which is
so rarely visited by strangers, and this isolation will only cease when the
proposed international railway shall have joined it to Saloniki and
37
Constantinople.

VI.—B ULGARIA.
The centre plateau of Turkey is still amongst the least-known countries of
the Balkan peninsula, although it is intersected by the great highways which
connect Thracia with Bosnia, and Macedonia with the Danube. This
plateau, {132} known to the ancients as Upper Mœsia, consists of a vast
granitic table-land, rising to an average height of 2,000 feet. Its surface is
diversified by several planinas , or mountain chains, of small relative
height, and by domes of trachyte, the remains of ancient volcanoes. Its
numerous depressions were formerly filled with water, and the contours of
the ancient lakes can still be traced. They have been gradually filled up by
alluvium, or drained by rivers. The most remarkable amongst these ancient
lacustrine basins are now represented by the fertile plains of Nish, Sofia,
and Ikhtiman.

Fig. 38.—M OUNT V ITOSH AND ITS E NVIRONS. Μ
According to F. von Hochstetter. Scale 1 : 1,058,000

The superb syenitic and porphyritic mountain group of Vitosh forms the
eastern bastion of the Mœsian plateau. Immediately to the east of it the deep
valley of the Isker pierces the whole of the Balkan Mountains, and, crossing
the plain of Sofia, takes its course in the direction of the Danube. The upper
valley of this river and the plain mentioned form the true geographical
centre of European Turkey. From Sofia diverge some of the most important
roads of the peninsula, one leading through the valley of the Isker to the
Lower Danube, another along the Morava valley into Servia, a third by way
of the Maritza into Thracia, and a fourth down the Struma into Macedonia.
It is said that Constantine the Great, struck by these important natural

advantages of Sofia, then called Sardica, thought of making it the capital of
his empire. {133}

TIRNOVA.

The Turks apply the name of Balkans to all the mountain ranges of the
peninsula, but geographers restrict that term to the Hæmus of the ancients.
This mountain rampart begins to the east of the basin of Sofia. It does not
form a regular chain, but rather an elevated terrace sloping down gently in
the direction of the Danube, whilst towards the south it presents an abrupt
slope, it appearing almost as if the plateau on that side had suddenly sunk to
a lower level. The Balkan consequently presents the appearance of a chain
only when looked at from the south. But its contours even there are only
slightly undulating; there are neither abrupt projections nor rocky pyramids,
and the prevailing character is that of long-stretched mountain ridges. The
porphyritic mountain group of Chatal, which rises to the south of the
principal chain, constitutes the only exception to this gentleness of contour.

Though inferior in height to the summits of the Balkan, its steep precipices,
slashed crests, and chaotic rock masses strike the beholder, and the contrast
between this mass of erupted rock and the gentle slopes of the calcareous
hills which surround it is very great.
The uniformity of the northern slopes of the Balkan is such that, in many
places, a traveller is able to reach the crest without having come in sight of
mountains. When the woods have disappeared from the Balkan, these
undulating slopes will be deprived of their greatest charm; but, as long as
the forests ornament them as now, the country will remain one of the most
delightful in Turkey. Running streams flow through each valley, bordered
by pastures as brilliantly green as are those of the Alps; the villages are built
in the shade of beech-trees and oaks; and nature everywhere wears a
smiling aspect. But the plains which extend to the Danube are barren, and
sometimes not a single tree is visible. The inhabitants, deprived of wood,
are dependent upon cow-dung dried in the sun for their fuel, and they dig
for themselves holes in the ground, where they seek protection from the
cold of winter.
The core of the Balkan, between the basin of Sofia and that of Slivno,
consists of granite, but the terraces which descend towards the Danube
present every geological formation, from the metamorphic to the most
recent rocks. The cretaceous formation occupies the largest area in
Bulgaria, and the rivers rising in the mountains, in traversing it, form
picturesque valleys and defiles. Ancient fortresses defend each of these
valleys, and the towns have been built where they debouch upon the plain.
Tirnova, the ancient capital of the tsars of Bulgaria, is the most remarkable
of these old bulwarks of defence. The Yantra, on debouching there from the
mountains, winds about curiously; steep cliffs form an amphitheatre, in the
centre of which rise two precipitous isolated rocks, crowned formerly by
walls and towers. The houses of the town are built on the slopes, and its
suburbs extend along the foot of the cliffs.
A singular parallelism has been noticed on the northern slopes of Balkan.
The elevated mountain saddles, crests of secondary chains, geological
formations, the faults which give rise to the meandering of the rivers, and

even the Danube itself, all follow the same direction, from west to east. As a
consequence, each of the parallel valleys descending from the Balkans
offers similar features; the {134} population is distributed in the same
manner; and the towns occupy analogous positions. The valley of the Lom
offers the only exception to the rule, for its direction is towards the north-
west. It debouches upon the Danube at Rustchuk, and its green orchards and
gardens are hemmed in by dazzling white cliffs of chalk rising to a height of
about 100 feet.
The symmetry would be almost complete in Northern Turkey if it were
not for the detached arid hills of the Dobruja, which force the Danube to
make a wide détour to the north. Rising in the low and swampy delta of the
Danube, these hills appear to be much higher than they are. In reality they
do not exceed 1,650 feet in height. It is possible that during some very
remote geological epoch the Danube took its course to the south of these
hills, through the depression which has been utilised for the construction of
the first Turkish railway. Trajan, who feared that the Goths might obtain a
footing in this remote corner of the Roman empire, constructed one of those
lines of fortifications here which are known throughout the countries of the
Lower Danube as Trajan’s Walls. Remains of walls, ditches, and forts may
still be traced along the banks of the marshes, and on the heights
commanding them. This country of the Dobruja is the “savage hyperborean
region” where Ovid, exiled from Rome, wept for the splendours of the
capital. The port of Tomi, the place of his banishment, is the modern
Kustenje.
To the north of the Gulf of Burgas, which is the westernmost extremity of
the Black Sea, rise the fine porphyry mountains which terminate in the
superb Cape of Emineh. They are sometimes described as an eastern
prolongation of the Balkan, but erroneously, for the ancient lacustrine basin
of Karnabat, now traversed by a railway, separates them from the system of
the Hæmus. The granitic plateaux and mountains of Tunja and Stranja,
which command the wide plain of Thracia on the north, are likewise
separate mountain ranges. The Southern Balkan is, in reality, without
ramifications or spurs, except in the west, where the mountains of Ikhtiman

and of Samakov, so rich in iron ore and thermal springs, and other
transverse chains, connect it with the mountain mass of the Rhodope. The
upper basin of the Maritza River, enclosed between the Balkan and the
Rhodope, has the shape of an elongated triangle, whose apex, directed
towards the plain of Sofia, indicates the point of junction between the two
systems. The whole of this triangular depression, with its lateral
ramifications, was formerly occupied by lakes, now converted into bottom-
lands of marvellous fertility. The passes near the apex of this triangle are
naturally points of the highest strategical and commercial importance.
Through one of them, still marked by ancient fortifications, and known as
Trajan’s Gate, passed the old Roman highway, and there, too, the railway
now in course of construction will cross the summit between the two slopes
of the peninsula. This is the true “gateway of Constantinople,” and from the
most remote times nations have fought for its possession. The numerous
tumuli scattered over the neighbouring plains bear witness to many a
bloody struggle.
The spurs of the Rhodope intermingle with those of the Balkan, and the
lowest {135} pass which separates the two still exceeds 3,000 feet in
elevation. The Rilo Dagh, the most elevated mountain mass of the Rhodope,
boldly rises at its northern extremity, and, to use the expression of Barth,
forms the shoulder-blade of junction. Its height is 9,580 feet. It rises far
beyond the region of forests, and its jagged summits, pyramids, and
platforms contrast strikingly with the rounded outlines of the Balkan. But
the lower heights, surrounded by this imposing amphitheatre of grand
summits, are covered with vegetation. Forests of pines, larches, and beech-
trees, the haunts of bears and chamois, alternate with clumps of trees and
cultivated fields, and the villages in the valleys are surrounded by meadows,
vineyards, and oaks. Picturesque cupolas of numerous monasteries peep out
amongst the verdure: to their existence the mountain owes its Turkish name
of Despoto Dagh, i.e. “mountain of the parsons.” The Rilo Dagh, likewise
famous on account of its monasteries, has altogether the aspect of the Swiss
Alps. The moist winds of the Me­di­ter­ra­nean convey to it much snow in
winter and spring, but in summer the clouds discharge only torrents of rain,

and the snow rapidly disappears from the flanks of the mountains. These
sudden rain-storms are amongst the most remarkable spectacles to be
witnessed. In the forenoon the mist which hides the tops of the mountains
grows dense by degrees, and heavy copper-coloured clouds collect on the
slopes. About three in the afternoon the rain begins to pour down, the
clouds grow visibly smaller, first one, then another summit is seen through
a rent in the watery vapours, until at last the air has become purified, and
the mountains are lit up in the sunset.
To the south of the Rilo Dagh rises the mountain mass of Perim, hardly
inferior to it in height. This is the Orbelos of the ancient Greeks, and the
rings to which Noah made fast his ark when the waters subsided after the
deluge are still shown there, and even Mussulman pilgrims pay their
devotions at this venerated spot. It is the last high summit of the Rhodope.
The mountains to the south rapidly decrease in elevation, though the
granitic formation to which they belong is spread over a vast extent of
country from the plains of Thracia to Albania. The extent of the hilly region
connected with the Rhodope is still further increased by numerous groups
of extinct volcanoes, which have poured forth vast sheets of trachytic lava.
The rivers which flow from the central plateau of Turkey into the Ægean
Sea have cut for themselves deep passages through these granites and lavas,
the most famous amongst which is the “Iron Gate” of the Vardar, or Demir
Kapu, which formerly figured on our maps of Turkey as a large town.
The aspect of the crystalline mountain masses to the west of the Vardar is
altogether of an Alpine character, for the peaks not only attain a high
elevation, but snow remains upon them during the greater portion of the
year. The Gornichova, or Nije, to the north of Thessaly, rises to a height of
6,560 feet; and the Peristeri, whose triple summit and snow-clad shoulders
have been likened to the spread-out wings of a bird, and which rises close to
the city of Bitolia, or Monastir, is more elevated still. The mountains of
ancient Dardania enclose extensive circular or elliptical plains, and the most
remarkable amongst these, {136} namely, that of Monastir, has been
compared by Grisebach, the geologist, to one of those huge crater lakes
which the telescope has revealed to us on the surface of the moon. In most

of these plains we meet with swamps or small lakes, the only remains of the
sheets of water which at one time covered them. The most extensive of
these lakes is that of Ostrovo. The Lake of Kastoria resembles the filled-up
crater of a volcano. In its centre rises a limestone hill joined to the shore by
an isthmus, upon which is built a picturesque Greek town.
According to Viquesnel and Hochstetter, traces of glaciers do not exist in
any of these ancient lacustrine basins, or on the flanks of the mountains. It
is certainly remarkable that whilst other European mountains—as, for
instance, the Vosges and the mountains of Auvergne—have passed through
a glacial epoch, the far more elevated Peristeri, Rilo Dagh, and Balkan,
under about the same latitude as the Pyrenees, should never have had their
38
valleys filled by moving rivers of ice.
All the large rivers of European Turkey belong to the Bulgarian regions
of the Balkan or Hæmus. In Bosnia there are merely small parallel rivers
flowing to the Save; Albania has only turbulent torrents forcing their way
through wild gorges, like the Drin; but the Maritza, the Strymon or Karasu,
the Vardar, and the Inje Karasu, which descend from the southern flanks of
the Balkans, or originate in the crystalline mountain masses of the Rhodope,
are large rivers, which bear comparison with the tranquil streams of
Western Europe. As yet we know but little about their mode of action. The
volume of water discharged by them has never been measured, and they are
hardly made use of for purposes of navigation or irrigation. They all
traverse ancient lake basins, which they have filled up gradually with
alluvium, and converted into fertile plains. This work of filling up still goes
on in the lower portions of these fluvial valleys, where extensive marshes,
and even gradually shrinking lakes, abound. One of these lakes, the
Takhino, through which the Strymon flows before it enters the Ægean Sea,
is said to be the Prasias of Herodotus, and its aquatic villages were no doubt
similar to the pile dwellings discovered in nearly all the lakes of Central
Europe.
The Danube, to the north of the Dobruja, performs an amount of
geological work, in comparison with which that of the Maritza, the
Strymon, and Vardar sinks into insignificance. That mighty river annually

conveys to the Black Sea a volume of water far in excess of that which is
carried down the rivers of all France, and the solids which it holds in
suspension are sufficient to cover an area of ten square miles to a depth of
nine feet. This enormous mass of sand and clay is annually deposited in the
swamps and on the banks of the delta, and the slow but steady growth of the
latter is thus sufficiently explained. Even the ancients {137} anticipated a
time when the Black Sea would be converted into a shallow pond
abounding in sand-banks, and it must, therefore, afford some consolation to
our mariners to be told that six million years must pass before the alluvium
carried down the river will fill the whole of the Black Sea.

Fig. 39.—T HE D ELTA OF THE D ANUBE. Μ
Scale 1 : 1,500,000.

The large triangular plain which the Danube has conquered from the sea
has not yet fully emerged from the waters. Lakes, and the remains of

ancient bays, half-obliterated branches of the Danube, and the ever-
changing beds of rivulets, have converted this delta into a domain, half
land, half sea. More elevated tracts, consolidated by the attack of the waves,
rise here and there above the melancholy mire and reeds, and bear a dense
vegetation of oaks, olives, and beeches. Willows fringe most of the
branches of the river which take their winding course through the delta.
Twenty years ago the Danube had six mouths; it has now only three.
After the Crimean war the Western powers determined that the Kilia
branch, which conveys to the Black Sea more than half the volume of the
Danube, should thenceforth form the boundary between Rumania and
Turkey. The Sultan thus possesses not only the whole of the delta, which
has an area of about 4,000 square miles, but also the only mouth of the river
which makes the possession of that territory of any value to him. The mouth
of the Kilia is closed by a bar of sand, which does not even permit small
vessels to enter it. {138}
The southern mouth, that of Khidrillis, or St. George, is likewise
inaccessible. The centre branch, that of the Sulina, which has served the
purposes of commerce from time immemorial, can alone be entered by
vessels. But even this channel would not be practicable, in the case of large
vessels, if our engineers had not improved its facilities of access. Formerly
the depth of water on the bar hardly exceeded a fathom during April, June,
and July; and even at times of flood was at most two or three fathoms. But
by building convergent jetties, which guide the waters of the river into the
deep sea, the depth of water has been increased to the extent of ten feet, and
vessels drawing twenty feet can enter. Sulina is now one of the most
important commercial ports of Europe, and a highly prized harbour of
refuge on the Black Sea, which is so much dreaded by mariners on account
of its squalls. We are indebted for this great public work to an international
commission, which enjoys almost sovereign rights over the Danube as high
39
up as Isakcha.

Fig. 40.—C OMPARATIVE D ISCHARGE OF THE M OUTHS OF THE D ANUBE.

The Bulgarians inhabit the country to the south of the Danube as far as
the slopes of Mount Pindus, excepting only certain detached territories in
the occupation of Turks, Wallachians, Zinzares, or Greeks. In the Middle
Ages their kingdom was even more extensive, for it included the whole of
Albania, and had Okhrida for its capital.
The origin of the Bulgarians has been a theme of frequent discussion.
The Bulgarians of the Byzantines, who laid waste the plains of Thracia
about the close of the fifth century, and whose name became a term of
opprobrium, probably were a Ugrian race, like the Huns, and spoke a
language akin to that of the Samoyeds. The name of these savage
conquerors is sometimes derived from the Volga, on the banks of which
they formerly dwelt; but their manners and appearance have undergone a
singular change, and nothing now indicates their origin. Originally
Turanians, they have been converted into Slavs, like their neighbours the
Servians and Russians.

BULGARIANS.
Christian from Christian Ladies from Mo­ham­me­dans from A native of
Viddin. Skodra. Viddin. Koyutepe.

This rapid conversion of the Bulgarians into Slavs is one of the most
remarkable ethnological phenomena of the Middle Ages. Even in the ninth
century the Bulgarians had adopted the Servian language, and soon
afterwards they ceased to speak their own. Their idiom is less polished than

that of the Servians, and, possessing no literature, has not become fixed.
The purest Bulgarian, it is said, may be heard in the district of Kalofer, to
the south of the Balkan. The gradual transformation of the Bulgarians into
Slavs is ascribed by some authors to the {139} prodigious facility for
imitation possessed by that people; but it is simpler to assume that, in
course of time, the conquering Bulgarians and the conquered Servians
became amalgamated, and that, whilst the former gave a name to the new
nation, the latter contributed their language, their manners, and physical
features. Thus much is certain, that the inhabitants of Bulgaria must now be
looked upon as members of the Slavonian family of nations. Together with
the Servians, Croats, and Herzegovinians, they are the most numerous
people of European Turkey; and, if the succession to the dominion of the
Turks is to be decided by numbers alone, it belongs to the Servo-
Bulgarians, and not to the Greeks.
The Bulgarians, as a rule, are not so tall as their neighbours the Servians;
they are squat, strongly built, with a large head on broad shoulders. Lejean,
himself a Breton, and others, consider that they bear a striking resemblance
to the peasants of Brittany. In several districts, and notably in the environs
of Philippopoli, they shave the head, a tuft of hair alone excepted, which
they cultivate and dress into a tail as carefully as the Chinese. Greeks and
Wallachians ridicule them, and many proverbial expressions refer to their
want of intelligence and polish. This ridicule, however, they hardly deserve.
Less vivacious than the Wallachian, or less supple than the Greek, the
Bulgarian is certainly not deficient in intelligence. But bondage has borne
heavily upon him; and in the south, where he is oppressed by the Turk and
fleeced by the Greek, he looks unhappy and sad; but in the plains of the
north and the secluded mountain villages, where he has been exposed to
less suffering, he is jovial, fond of pleasure, fluent of speech, and quick at
repartee. The inhabitants of the northern slopes of the Balkan, perhaps
owing to a greater infusion of Servian blood, are better-looking, too, than
other Bulgarians, and dress in better taste. A still finer race of men are the
Pomakis, in the high valleys of the Rhodope, to the south of Philippopoli.
Their speech is Bulgarian, but in no other respect do they resemble their

compatriots. They are a fine race of men, with auburn hair, full of energy,
and of a poetical temperament. We almost feel tempted to look upon them
as the lineal descendants of the ancient Thracians, especially if it should
turn out to be true that in their songs they celebrate Orpheus, the divine
musician.
The Bulgarians, and especially those of the plains, are a peaceable
people, recalling in no respect the fierce hordes who devastated the
Byzantine empire. They are not warlike, like their neighbours the Servians,
and do not keep alive in their national poetry the memory of former
struggles. Their songs relate to the events of every-day life, or to the
sufferings of the oppressed; and the “gentle zaptieh ,” as the representative
of authority, is one of the characters most frequently represented in them.
The average Bulgarian is a quiet, hard-working peasant, a good husband
and father; he is fond of home comforts, and practises every domestic
virtue. Nearly all the agricultural produce exported from Turkey results
from the labour of Bulgarian husbandmen. It is they who have converted
certain portions of the plain to the south of the Danube into huge fields of
{140} maize and corn, rivalling those of Rumania. It is they, likewise, who,
at Eski-Za’ara, at the south of the Balkan, produce the best silk and the best
wheat in all Turkey, from which latter alone the bread and cakes placed
upon the Sultan’s table are prepared. Other Bulgarians have converted the
noble plain of Kezanlik, at the foot of the Balkan, into the finest agricultural
district of Turkey, the town itself being surrounded by magnificent walnut-
trees and by rosaries, which furnish the famous attar of roses, constituting
so important an article of commerce throughout the East. Amongst the
Bulgarians between Pirot and Turnov (Tirnova), on the northern slope of the
Balkan, there exist flourishing manufactures. Each village there is noted for
a particular branch of industry. Knives are made at one, metal ornaments at
another, earthenware at a third, stuffs or carpets elsewhere; and even
common workmen exhibit much manual dexterity and purity of taste. An
equally remarkable spirit of enterprise is manifested amongst the Bulgarians
and Zinzares of the district of Bitolia, or Monastir. The town itself, as well
as Kurshova, Florina, and others in its vicinity, are manufacturing centres.

The Bulgarians, peaceable, patient, and industrious as they are, are
beginning to grow tired of the subjection in which they are held. They
certainly do not as yet dream of a national rising, for the isolated revolts
which have taken place amongst them were confined to a few
mountaineers, or brought about by young men whom a residence in Servia
or Rumania had imbued with an enthusiasm for liberty. But though docile
subjects still, the Bulgarians begin to raise their heads. They have learnt to
look upon each other as members of the same nation, and are organizing
themselves for the defence of their nationality. The first step in this
direction was taken on a question of religion. When the Turks conquered
the country a certain number amongst them turned Mo­ham­me­dan to escape
oppression; but though they visit the mosques, they nevertheless still cling
to the faith of their forefathers, venerate the same springs, and put their trust
in the same talismans. A few joined the Roman Church, but a great majority
remained Greek Catholics. Greek monks and priests, not long since,
enjoyed the greatest influence, for during centuries of oppression they had
upheld the ancient faith. Their presence vaguely recalled the times of
independence, and their churches were the only sanctuaries open to the
persecuted peasant. But the Bulgarians, in the end, grew discontented with a
priesthood who did not even take the trouble to acquire the language of its
congregations, and openly sought to subject them to an alien nation like the
Greeks. Nothing was further from their thoughts than a religious schism.
They merely desired to withdraw from the authority of the Patriarch of
Constantinople, and to found a National Church of their own, as had been
done by the Servians, and even by the Greeks of the new Hellenic kingdom.
The Vatican of Constantinople protested, the Turkish Government proved
anything but favourable to this movement of emancipation, but in the end
the Greek priests were forced to retire—precipitately in some instances—
and the new National Church was established. {141}
This pacific revolution, though directed against the Greeks, cannot fail to
influence the relations between Bulgarians and Turks. The former have
combined, for the first time since many centuries, for the accomplishment
of a common national object, and this reawakening of a feeling of

nationality cannot but prove detrimental to the rule of the Osmanli. The
latter are not very numerous in the country districts of Western Bulgaria,
where they are met with chiefly in the towns, and particularly in those
which are of strategical importance. Eastern Bulgaria, however, is for the
most part peopled by Turks, or at all events by Bulgarians who have
adopted the language, dress, manners, and modes of thought of their
conquerors. No Christian monastery exists in this stronghold of Turkish
power, though there are several Mo­ham­me­dan places of pilgrimage held in
high repute for their sanctity.
The Greeks, next to the Turks, are the most important element of the
population of Bulgaria. They are not very numerous to the north of the
Balkan, where their influence hardly exceeds that of the Germans and
Armenians established in the towns. To the south of the Balkan, though not
numerous relatively, they are much more widely distributed. One or two
Greeks are met with in every village, carrying on trade or exercising some
handicraft. They make themselves indispensable to the locality, their advice
is sought for by all, and they impart their own spirit to the whole of the
population. Where two or three of these Greeks meet they at once constitute
themselves into a sort of community, and throughout the country they form
a kind of masonic brotherhood. Their influence is thus far greater than
could be expected from their numbers. There are a few important Greek
colonies amongst the Bulgarians, as at Philippopoli and Bazarjik, and in a
valley of the Rhodope they occupy the populous town of Stanimako, to the
exclusion of Turks and Bulgarians. The ruins of ancient buildings, as well
as the dialect of the inhabitants, which contains over two hundred Greek
words not known to modern Greek, prove that Stanimako has existed as a
Greek town for upwards of twenty centuries, and M. Dumont thinks that it
is one of the old colonies of Eubœa.
The initiatory part played by the Greeks in Southern Bulgaria is played in
the north by the Rumanians. The right bank of the Danube, from
Chernavoda to the Black Sea, is for the most part inhabited by Wallachians,
who are gradually gaining upon the Turks. Other colonists are attracted by
the fertility of the plains at the northern foot of the Balkan. The Bulgarians

are careful cultivators of the soil themselves, but the Rumanians
nevertheless gain a footing amongst them, as they do with the Servians, the
Magyars, and the Germans. They are more active and intelligent than the
Bulgarians, their families are more numerous, and in the course of a
generation they generally succeed in “Rumanising” a village in which they
have settled.
Bulgarians and Turks, Greeks and Wallachians, isolated colonies of
Servians and Albanians, communities of Armenians and of Spanish Jews,
colonies of Zinzares and wandering tribes of Mo­ham­me­dan Tsigani, have
converted the {142} countries of the Balkan into a veritable ethnological
chaos; but the confusion is greater still in the small district of Dobruja,
between the Lower Danube and the Black Sea. In addition to the races
enumerated, we there meet with Nogai Tartars, who are of purer blood than
their kinsmen the Osmanli, and exhibit the Asiatic type in greater purity.
Although they cultivate the soil, they have not altogether abandoned their
nomad habits, for they wander with their herds over hill and dale. They are
governed by an hereditary khan, as at the time when they dwelt in tents.
After the Crimean war several thousand Nogai Tartars, compromised by
the aid which they had rendered the Allies, joined their compatriots in the
Dobruja. On the other hand, about 10,000 Bulgarians, terrified at the
approach of these much-maligned immigrants, fled the Dobruja, and sought
an asylum in Russia, where they were assigned the lands abandoned by the
Crimean Tartars. This exchange proved disastrous to both nations, for
sickness and grief carried off many victims. More deplorable still was the
lot of the Circassians and other Caucasian tribes, who, to the number of
400,000, sought a refuge in Turkey in 1864. It was by no means easy to
provide accommodation for so large a host. The pasha intrusted with the
installation of these immigrants sent many of them to Western Bulgaria, in
the vain hope that they would cut off all contact between Servians and
Bulgarians. The rayas were compelled to surrender to them their best lands,
to build houses for them, and to supply them with cattle and seed-corn. This
hospitable reception, compulsory though it was, would have enabled these
immigrants to start in their adopted country with a fair chance of success,

had they but deigned to work. This, however, they declined. Hunger,
sickness, and a climate very different from that of their mountains, caused
them to perish in thousands, and in less than a year about one-third of these
refugees had perished. Young girls and children were sold to procure bread,
and this infamous traffic became a source of wealth to certain pashas. The
harems became filled with young Circassians, who were a drug in the
market at that time, and the human merchandise not saleable at
Constantinople was exported to Syria and Egypt. These Circassians, after
thus suffering from sickness and their own improvident laziness, have now
accommodated themselves to the conditions of their new homes. Though of
the same religion as the Osmanli, they readily assimilate with the
Bulgarians amongst whom they dwell, and adopt their language.
Other refugees, more kindly treated by fate, have found an asylum in the
Dobruja. They are Russian Cossacks, Ruthenians, and Muscovites of the
“Old Faith,” who left their steppes towards the close of last century in order
to escape persecution. The Padisha, more tolerant than the Christian
Empress of Russia, generously received them, and granted them land in
various parts of his dominions. The Russian colonies in the Dobruja and in
the delta of the Danube have prospered, and one of their settlements on the
St. George’s branch of the river is known as the “Cossacks’ Paradise.” Most
of these Russians are engaged in the sturgeon fishery and the preparation of
caviare. They have {143} proved grateful for the hospitality extended to
them, and have always fought valiantly in defence of their adopted country.
They retain their national dress, their language, and their religion, and do
not mix with the surrounding populations.
In addition to the above, we meet in the Dobruja with colonies of
Germans, Arabs, and Poles, and, in the new port of the Sulina, with
representatives of many nations of Europe and Asia.

There are few countries where the great international high-roads are as
plainly traced by nature as in Bulgaria. The first of these roads is formed by
the Danube. The Turkish towns along its banks—Viddin, Shishtova,
Rustchuk, and Silistria—are taking an increasing share in European

commerce. This highway is continued along the shores of the Black Sea,
where there are several commercial harbours, the most important being
Burgas, a great grain port. This natural highway, however, has become too
circuitous for purposes of commerce. A railway has therefore been built
across the isthmus of the Dobruja, from Chernavoda to Kustenje, and a
second line connects Rustchuk, on the Danube, with Varna, on the Black
Sea, the latter line crossing the whole of Eastern Bulgaria, and touching the
towns of Razgrad and Shumna. A third line, now in course of construction,
will cross the Balkans by a depression to the south of Shumna, and
traversing the plain in which the towns of Yamboly and Adrianople are
built, will connect the Lower Danube with the Ægean Sea. A third route,
still farther to the west, passes Turnov, or Tirnova—the ancient capital of
the tsars of Bulgaria—Kezanlik, and Eski-Za’ara.
These railways, already opened for traffic or approaching completion,
certainly shorten the journey between Western Europe and Constantinople;
but it is proposed now to avoid the circuitous navigation of the Lower
Danube altogether, by joining the railway system of Europe to that of
Turkey. One of these proposed railways will pass through Bosnia, and down
the valley of the Vardar to Saloniki; another will follow the ancient Roman
road, which connected Pannonia with Byzantium, and which was paved in
the sixteenth century as far as Belgrad. The principal cities along this great
highway are Nish, on a tributary of the Morava, close to the frontier of
Servia; Sofia, the ancient Sardica, on the Isker, a tributary of the Danube;
Bazarjik, or “the market;” and the fine town of Philippopoli, with its triple
mountain commanding the passage of the Maritza. These towns, on the
completion of the railway, cannot fail to become of great commercial
importance. A hideous monument near Nish will, perhaps, be pointed out to
tourists attracted thither on the opening of the railway. It was erected to
remind future generations of a deed of “glory.” This trophy of Kele-kalesi
consists of a tower built of the skulls of Servians, who, rather than fall alive
into the hands of their enemies, blew themselves up together with the
redoubt which they defended. A governor of Nish, more humane than his
predecessors, desired to remove this abominable piece of masonry, which

no raya passes without a shudder, but Mussulman fanaticism forbade it.
{144}
The influence of commerce cannot fail to modify largely the manners and
customs of a nation as supple and pliable as are the Bulgarians. War has
brutalised the Albanians, and slavery degraded the Bulgarians. In the towns,
more particularly, they have sunk very low. The insults heaped upon them
by Mussulmans, and the contemptuous manner in which they were treated,
rendered them abject and despicable in their own eyes. Demoralised by
servitude and misery, given up to the mercy of their rich compatriots, the
chorbajis , or “givers of soup,” they became shameless and low-minded
helots. The Bulgarian women, in the towns more particularly, presented a
spectacle of the most shameful corruption, and their want of modesty, their
coarseness, and ignorance fully justified the contempt in which they were
held by their Mo­ham­me­dan sisters. Even as regards education the Turks
were in advance of them: not long ago their schools relatively were more
numerous, and the instruction given in them was of a superior order.
Christian villages, moreover, were never so clean or pleasant as those of the
Turks.
But, whatever may have been the case in the past, things have already
begun to mend. The Turks, as a body, may still be the superiors of the
Bulgarians, as regards probity and a respect for truth, but they work less,
and become impoverished by degrees. In the country the land gradually
passes into the hands of the rayas, in the towns the latter monopolize nearly
all the trade. The Bulgarians, moreover, have learnt to appreciate the
importance of education; they have founded schools and colleges, have set
up printing presses, and send their young men to be educated at the
universities of Europe. The young Bulgarians in the mixed colleges of
Constantinople invariably make the most satisfactory progress in their
studies. This revival of learning is a most hopeful sign of vitality. If
persevered in, the Bulgarian race, which has been dead, as it were, for so
many centuries, may again play its part in the world’s history. The atrocities

of which Bulgaria has recently been the scene may retard this regeneration,
40
but they certainly cannot stop it. {145}

VII.—P RESENT P OSITION AND P ROSPECTS OF T URKEY.
The prophecies respecting the “sick man” have not yet been fulfilled, and
his heritage divided amongst the surrounding powers. To a great extent he is
indebted for this continued existence to the jealousies of the European
powers, and to the fact of Russia having her hands full in Central Asia. Still,
Turkey has recently exhibited a wonderful amount of vitality. Fresh
provinces have been incorporated with the empire in Arabia, at a distance of
1,800 miles from the capital; and a rebellion in the north-western portion of
European Turkey, originating in the misgovernment of the country, but
aided and abetted by Russia, has been suppressed with a strong hand. The
Turkish empire remains not only intact, but will actually be found to have
considerably increased in extent, if we include within it the territories of the
Khedive of Egypt, whose arms have been carried to the Upper Nile and into
Dar Fur.
We must guard ourselves, at the same time, against the assumption that
Turkey has entered upon a path of normal progress. On the contrary, Turkey
is a mediæval country still, and will have to pass through many intestine
revolutions before it can rank with the civilised states of Europe or
America. The country is in the occupation of hostile races, who would fall
upon each other were they not restrained by force. The Servian would take
up arms against the Albanian, the Bulgarian against the Greek, and all the
subject races would combine against the Turk. National jealousies are
augmented by religious animosities. The Catholic Bosnians hate other
Slavs, and the Tosks detest the Gheges, although they speak the same
language. The Osmanli oppress these various populations without
compunction, their art of government consisting in playing them off against
each other.
Nor can better things be expected in an empire in which caprice reigns
supreme. The Padishah is lord of the souls and bodies of his subjects; he is
commander-in-chief of the army, supreme judge, and sovereign pontiff. In
former times his power was practically limited by semi-independent
feudatories, but since the fall of Ali Pasha and the massacre of the

janissaries he is restrained only by customs, traditions, and the demands of
the Governments of Europe. He is the most despotic sovereign of Europe,
and his civil list the heaviest in proportion to the revenues of the country.
The household of the late Sultan and of the members of his family was
exceedingly numerous. There lived in the Seraglio an army of 6,000
servants and slaves of both sexes, of whom 600 were cooks. These servants,
in turn, were surrounded by an army of hangers-on, who were fed from the
imperial kitchens, to which no less than 1,200 sheep were supplied daily by
the contractors.
Current expenses were sufficiently heavy, but more considerable still was
the extraordinary expenditure incurred in the construction of palaces and
kiosks, the purchase of articles de luxe and of curiosities, and for all kinds
of prodigalities. The present Sultan, driven thereto by the precarious
position of his empire, has limited his expenditure. But will this last? {146}
Ministers, valis, and other high officials of the empire faithfully follow in
the footsteps of their sovereign, and their expenditure always exceeds their
salary, though the latter is fixed on a most liberal scale. As to the lower
officials, their salaries are small and irregularly paid; but it is understood
that they may recoup themselves at the expense of the ratepayers.
Everything can be purchased in Turkey, and, above all, justice. The state of
the finances is most lamentable; loans are raised at usurious interest; and so
badly is the country governed that it has been seriously proposed to intrust
41
the management of its finances to a syndicate of the European powers !
Agriculture and industry progress but slowly under such misgovernment.
Vast tracts of the most fertile land are allowed to lie fallow; they appear to
be no one’s property, and any one may settle upon and cultivate them. But
woe to him if he conducts his operations with profit to himself; for no
sooner is he observed to become wealthy than his land is laid claim to on
behalf of the clergy or of some pasha, and he may consider himself lucky if
he escapes a bastinado. The peasants, in many districts, are careful not to
produce more than they absolutely require to live upon, for an abundant
harvest would impoverish them—would merely lead to a permanent

increase of taxation. The tradesmen in the smaller towns are equally careful
to conceal their wealth, if they possess any.
Many Mussulman families have ceded to the mosques their proprietary
rights. They thus enjoy merely the usufruct of their lands, but are freed, on
the other hand, from the payment of taxes, and the land remains in the
possession of their families until they become extinct. These lands are
known as vakufs , and they form about one-third of the area of the whole
empire. They contribute actually nothing towards the revenues of the State.
In the end they aggrandise the vast estates of the Mo­ham­me­dan clergy.
Taxation weighs almost exclusively upon the lands cultivated by the
unfortunate Christians; and in proportion as the vakufs increase, so does the
produce of taxation diminish. This must in the end necessarily lead to a
secularisation of the estates of the clergy; and even now, to the great horror
of the old Turks, the Ottoman Government is timidly extending its hands
towards the estates belonging to the mosques of Constantinople.

MUSSULMAN OF ADRIANOPLE, AND MUSSULMAN LADY OF PRISREND.

The Servian, Albanian, and Bulgarian peasants actually cultivate their
land in spite of their masters. A single fact will show this. Certain collectors
of tithes, in order to prevent fraud, insist upon the peasants leaving the
whole of the harvest upon the fields until they have withdrawn their tenth
part. Maize, rice, and corn are exposed there to the inclemencies of the
weather and other destructive agencies; and it frequently happens that the

harvest has deteriorated to the extent of one-half in value before the
Government impost is levied. Sometimes the peasants allow their grapes or
fruit to rot rather than pay the tithes. But it is not the tax-gatherer alone of
whose conduct the peasant may complain; for he is exposed likewise to
exactions by the middlemen with whom he comes into contact when selling
his produce. “The Bulgarian works, but the Greek holds the plough.” So
says an ancient proverb; and this is still true at least of the {147} countries to
the south of the Balkan, where the Bulgarian peasant is not always the
proprietor of the land he tills. But where he does not directly work for a
Greek or Mussulman proprietor, his harvest, even before it is cut, is
frequently the property of a usurer; but he works on from day to day, a
wretched slave, in the vain hope of becoming one day a free man.
The fertility of the soil on both slopes of the Balkans, in Macedonia, and
in Thessaly is, however, such that in spite of mosques and tax-collectors, in
spite of usurers and thieves, agriculture supplies commerce with a large
quantity of produce. Maize, or “Turkish corn,” and all cereals are grown in
abundance. The valleys of the Karasu and Vardar produce cotton, tobacco,
and dye stuffs; the coast districts and islands yield wine and oil, whose
quality would leave nought to be desired, were a little more care bestowed
upon their cultivation; and forests of mulberry-trees are met with in certain
parts of Thracia and Rumelia, and the export of cocoons to Italy and France
is increasing from year to year. Turkey, with its fertile soil, is sure to take a
prominent part amongst the European states for the variety and superiority
of its products. As to its manufactures, they will no doubt be gradually
displaced on the opening of new roads of commerce. The manufacturers of
arms, stuffs, carpets, and jewellery in the cities of the interior will suffer
considerably from foreign competition, and many amongst them will
succumb to it, unless they pass into the hands of foreigners. The great fairs,
too, which are now held annually at Slivno and other places, and at which
merchants from the whole of the empire meet to transact business—as
many as a hundred thousand strangers being attracted occasionally to a
single spot—will gradually give place to a regular commercial intercourse.

It is certain that the commerce of Turkey has increased of late years,
thanks to the efforts of Greeks, Armenians, and Franks of all nations. The
annual value of the exports and imports of the whole of the Ottoman empire
in Europe and Asia is estimated at £40,000,000—a very small sum, if we
bear in mind the resources of these countries, their many excellent harbours,
and their favourable geographical position.
The Turks themselves perform but a very small share of the work that is
done in their empire. Various causes combine to render them less active
than the other races. They are the governing class, and their ambition
naturally aspires to the honours and the luxury of kief ; that is to say, of
sweet idleness. Despising everything not Mo­ham­me­dan, and being, besides,
heedless and of a sluggish mind, they but rarely learn foreign languages,
and are thus in a certain measure at the mercy of the other races, most of
whom speak two or more idioms. Moreover, the fatalism taught in the
Koran has deprived the Turk of all enterprise, and once thrown out of his
ordinary routine, he is helpless. Polygamy and slavery are likewise two
causes of demoralisation. It is true that the rich alone can permit themselves
the luxury of a harem, but the poor learn from their superiors to despise
women, they become debased, and take a share in that traffic in human
flesh which is a necessary sequence of polygamy. Yet, in spite of the
innumerable slaves imported in the course of four centuries from all the
regions bordering upon {148} the Turkish empire; in spite of the millions of
Circassian, Greek, and other girls transplanted into the harems, the Osmanli
are numerically inferior to the other races of the peninsula. This dominant
race—if the term race be applicable to the product of so many crossings—
hardly numbers ten per cent. of the population of European Turkey. And
this numerical inferiority is on the increase, for, owing to polygamy, the
number of children surviving in Mo­ham­me­dan families is less than in
Christian families. We are not in possession of precise figures, but there can
be no doubt that the Turks are on the decrease. The conscription, to which
they alone are subject, has contributed towards this result, and becomes
more difficult from year to year.

It has often been repeated since Chateaubriand that the Turks have but
camped in Europe, and expect to return to the steppes whence they came. It
would thus be a feeling of presentiment which induces the Turks of Stambul
to seek burial in the cemetery of Scutari, hoping thus to save their bones
from the profanation of the Giaour’s tread on his return, as master, to
Constantinople. In many places the living follow the examples of the dead,
and a feeble current of emigration sets from the Archipelago and the coast
districts of Thracia in the direction of Asia, carrying along many an old
Turk discontented with the stir of European life. This migration, however, is
but of very small importance, and does not affect the Osmanli of the
interior. Nothing is further from the minds of the Turks of Bulgaria, the
Yuruks of Macedonia, or the Koniarides, who have inhabited the mountains
of Rumelia since the eleventh century, than to quit the land which has
become their second home. The Turkish element in the Balkan peninsula
can be got rid of only by exterminating it; that is, by treating the Turks more
ferociously than they treated the native populations at the time of the
conquest. We ought not to forget, at the same time, that the Turks, though
far inferior in numbers to the other races, are nevertheless able to reckon
upon the support of millions of Mo­ham­me­dan Albanians, Bosnians,
Bulgarians, Circassians, and Nogai Tartars. The Mussulmans constitute
more than a third of the population of European Turkey, and, in spite of
differences of race, they hold firmly together. Nor must it be forgotten that
they are backed up by a hundred and fifty millions of co-religionists in
42
other parts of the world.

ETHNOGRAPHICAL MAP OF TURKEY in EUROPE Μ

{149}
Let us hope that the future may not give birth to a struggle of
extermination between the races of the peninsula, but rather to institutions
enabling these diverse and partially hostile elements to develop themselves
in peace and liberty. The Turks themselves begin to see the necessity of
such institutions, and, in theory at least, have abandoned their policy of
violence and oppression. All the nationalities of the empire, without
reference to race or religion, are supposed to be equal before the law, and
Christians are admitted to Government offices on the same terms as
Mussulmans. No doubt these fine laws have for the most part hitherto
remained a dead letter, but it would nevertheless be unjust if we denied that
much progress towards an equalisation of the various races has been made.

Fortunately the despotism of the Turks is not the despotism of learning,
based upon a knowledge of human nature, and directed to its debasement.
The Osmanli ignore the art of “oppressing wisely,” which the Dutch
governors of the Sunda Islands were required to practise in former times,
and which is not quite unknown in other countries. The pashas allow things
to take their course as long as they are able to enrich themselves and their
favourites, to sell justice and their favours at a fair price, and to bastinade
now and then some unlucky wight. They do not inquire into the private
concerns of their subjects, and do not call for confidential reports on
families and individuals. Their Government, no doubt, is frequently violent
and oppressive; but all this only touches externals. Such a government may
not be favourable to the development of public spirit, but it does not
interfere with individuals, and powerful national institutions, such as the
Greek commune, the Mirdit tribe, and the Slav community, have been able
to survive under it. Self-government is, in fact, more widely practised in
Turkey than in the most advanced countries of Western Europe. It would
have been difficult to force these various national elements under a uniform
discipline, and the lazy Turkish functionaries generally leave things alone.
The Frankish officials in the pay of the Turkish Government, in fact, more
frequently interfere with the prejudices and privileges of the governed than
do the Mussulman pashas of the old school.
It cannot be doubted for a moment that, in a time not very far distant, the
non-Mo­ham­me­dan races of Turkey will take the lead in politics, as they do
already in commerce, industry, and education. The Osmanli of the olden
school, who still wear the green turban of their ancestors, look forward
towards this inevitable result with despair. They struggle against every
measure calculated to accelerate the emancipation of the despised raya, and
European inventions, in their eyes, are working a great social
transformation to their injury; and, indeed, it is the raya who profits most
from roads, railways, harbours, agricultural and other machines. Bosnians,
Bulgarians, and Servians have learnt to look upon each other as brothers;
Albanians and Rumanians are drawn towards the Greeks; all alike feel

themselves as Europeans; and thus the way is being paved for the Danubian
Confederation of the future.
The approaching completion of the railway from Vienna to
Constantinople cannot fail to work a commercial revolution as far as the
trade of a considerable portion of Eastern Europe is concerned. It will form
a link in the direct line {150} between England and India, and to travellers
and merchandise will afford the shortest route from the centre of Europe to
the Bosporus. On its opening, Constantinople will be enabled to avail itself
to the fullest extent of the highways of commerce which converge upon it.
Still greater must be the political consequences of opening this line, for it
will bring the populations of the Balkan peninsula into more direct and
active contact with those of Austro-Hungary and the rest of Europe.

Fig. 41.—C OMMERCIAL H IGHWAYS CONVERGING UPON C ONSTANTINOPLE. Μ
Scale 1 : 17,100,000.

VIII.—G OVERNMENT AND A DMINISTRATION.
The Turkish empire occupies a vast area, the greater portion of which is
governed by vassals, almost independent of the Sultan at Stambul. The vast
territories of Egypt and Tunis are in that position. The interior of Arabia is
in possession of the Wahabites; the coast of Hadramaut is inhabited partly
by tribes acknowledging the suzerainty of England; and even between Syria
and the Euphrates there {151} are numerous districts only nominally under
the government of Turkish pashas, but in reality in the possession of
predatory Bedwins. The Ottoman empire, properly so called, includes the
European provinces, Asia Minor, Syria, Palestine, the basins of Tigris and
Euphrates, Hejaz and Yemen in Arabia, and Tripoli, with Fezzan, in Africa.
These territories, with their dependent islands, cover an area of no less than
210,156 square miles; but their population, being far less dense than that of
Western Europe, hardly numbers 47,000,000 souls.

Fig. 42.—T HE T URKISH E MPIRE. Μ
Scale 1 : 55,000,000.

The area of Turkey in Europe, exclusive of Rumania, Servia, and
Montenegro, is about equal to that of the British Islands. Constantinople,
with the surrounding country, forms a district under the immediate
supervision of the Ministry of Police. The remainder of the country is
divided into eight vilayets , or provinces; the vilayets are subdivided into

mutesarifliks , or sanjaks ; these latter into kazas , or cantons; and the kazas
into rahiés , or parishes. Lemnos, Imbros, Samothrace, and Astypalæa, with
Rhodes and the islands along the coast of Anatolia, form a {152} separate
vilayet. These political divisions, however, are subject to frequent
43
changes.
The Sultan, or Padishah , concentrates all powers within his person. He is
Emir el mumenin , or head of the faithful, and his conduct is guided solely
by the prescriptions of the Koran and the traditions of his ancestors. The
two most influential persons in the empire, next to him, are the Sheik-el-
Islam , or Great Mufti, who superintends public worship and the
administration of justice, and the Sadrazam , or Grand Vizier, who is at the
head of the general administration, and is assisted by a council of ten
ministers, or mushirs . The Kislar Agasi , or chief of the black eunuchs, to
whom is confided the management of the imperial harem, is likewise one of
the great dignitaries of the empire, and frequently enjoys the very highest
influence. The legal advisers of the various ministries are known as mufti .
Efendi , bey , and aga are honorary titles bestowed upon certain
Government officials and persons of consideration. The title of pasha ,
which signifies “grand chief,” is given to certain high civil or military
functionaries. This title is symbolized by one, two, or three horse-tails
attached to the top of a lance, a usage recalling the time when the nomad
Turks roamed over the steppes of Central Asia.
The work of the various ministries is done by councils, and there thus
exist a council of state, or shuraï devlet , councils of accounts, of war, of the
navy, of public education, of police, &c. These various councils, in their
totality, constitute the divan , or government chancery. There is also a
supreme court of justice, with sections for civil and criminal cases. The
members of these various official bodies are appointed by Government.
Each of the subject “nations” is represented on the Council of State by two
members, carefully selected by the Sadrazam .
The vilayet is governed by a vali , the sanjak by a mutesarif , the kaza by
a {153} kaimakan , the parish by a mudir . Each of these is supposed to act by

advice of a council composed of the leading religious and civilian
functionaries, Mo­ham­me­dan and non-Mo­ham­me­dan. In reality, however,
the vali appoints all these councils, and they are popularly known as the
“Councils of the Ayes.”
The rules laid down by the supreme Government for its own guidance are
embodied in the hatti-sherif of Gulhane, promulgated in 1839, and in the
hatti-humayum of 1856. These hatts promise equal rights to all the
inhabitants of the empire, but have been carried out hitherto only very
partially. A “constitution” was promulgated in December, 1876, on the
assembling of the European Conference at Constantinople. It provides
representative institutions, local self-government, and various
improvements, but is likely to remain a dead letter.
The religious and judicial organization of the country is jealously
watched over by the Sheik-el-Islam and the priests, and cannot possibly be
changed. The imans are specially charged with the conduct of public
worship. They include sheiks , or preachers; khatibs , who recite the official
prayers; and the imans properly so called, who celebrate marriages and
conduct interments. Judges and imans form a body known as ulemas , at
whose head is placed a kazi-asker , or chief judge, and who are divided
hierarchically into mollahs , kazis (kadis), and naibs .
The Greek Patriarch of Constantinople, as head of the Church in Turkey
and civil director of the Greek communities, wields a considerable
influence. He is elected by a synod of eighteen members, which administers
the religious budget, and whose decisions in matters of faith are final. The
heads of the Latin rite are a patriarch at Constantinople and the two
Archbishops of Antivari and Durazzo. The two Armenian Churches have
each a patriarch at Constantinople.

T REATIES OF S AN S TEFANO AND B ERLIN.
It will be noticed that the preceding description of Turkey in Europe, and
the succeeding accounts of Rumania, Servia, and Montenegro, present the
conditions existing immediately prior to the late war with Russia, in which
the Turks were completely overpowered in a few months. The Congress of
European powers sitting at Berlin in the summer of 1878, to consider the
preliminary treaty of San Stefano (March 2) between Russia and Turkey,
materially modified its provisions in the joint treaty signed July 13,
disposing of European Turkey in the following manner: 1. The tributary
principality of Bulgaria is created (with less than half the dimensions
assigned to it by the treaty of San Stefano), to be governed by a prince (who
shall not be a member of any ruling dynasty) chosen by the people within
nine months, and confirmed by the Porte and the other powers, and in the
mean time by Russian commissioners assisted by delegated European
consuls. 2. South of the Balkans is formed the autonomous province of
Eastern Roumelia, under a Christian governor-general, appointed for five
years by the Porte with the assent of the powers, which are to determine
within three months the administrative requirements of the province. 3.
Bosnia and Herzegovina to be occupied and {154} administered by Austria-
Hungary, excepting Novi-Bazar and a small surrounding district. This
provision, unlimited as to time, practically annexes those provinces to the
Austro-Hungarian Empire, and has already (October, 1878) been executed,
after serious armed resistance by their Moslem inhabitants. 4. Rumania,
Servia, and Montenegro are made independent, with the enlarged
boundaries shown by the annexed map. Rumania receives the Dobruja from
Russia, to which it was ceded by the treaty of San Stefano, with the
understanding that it was to be exchanged for the strip of Bessarabia
transferred from Russia to Rumania by the treaty of Paris of 1856, which
has accordingly been restored. The additions to Montenegro include the
port of Antivari, which is closed to war-ships of all nations; and
Montenegro is to have no national flag nor ships of war, its merchant flag to
be protected by Austrian consuls. 5. Austrian Dalmatia receives from

Albania the small port of Spitza. 6. The services of the powers are offered
for the rectification of the northern frontier of Greece. 7. Entire religious
liberty and political equality are provided for in all the territories affected
by the treaty.

M AP SHOWING C HANGES IN E UROPEAN T URKEY AND A RMENIA, AS PROPOSED BY THE Μ
T REATY OF S AN S TEFANO, AND AS DETERMINED BY THE T REATY OF B ERLIN.

RUM ANI A. *

HE Rumanians are certainly one of the most curious amongst
European nations. The descendants of the conquerors of the
ancient world, they live detached from, and far to the north-
east of, the other nations of the Greco-Latin family, and not
many years ago they were hardly known by name. The grave
events of which the Lower Danube has been the scene since the middle of
this century have brought these Rumanians prominently to the fore, and we
know now that they differ essentially from their neighbours, be they Slav,
Turk, or Magyar. They constitute, in fact, one of the most important
elements amongst the populations of Eastern Europe, and numerically they
are the strongest nation on the Lower Danube, the Bulgarians alone
excepted.
The ethnological boundaries of Rumania are far wider than are the
political ones, for they embrace not only Wallachia and Moldavia beyond
the Carpathians, but also Russian Bessarabia, a portion of the Bukovina, the
greater portion of Transylvania, as well as extensive tracts in the Banat and
Eastern Hungary. The Rumanians have likewise crossed the Danube, and
established themselves in portions of Servia and Bulgaria; and the
settlements of their kinsmen, the Zinzares, sporadically extend far south to

the hills of Thessaly and Greece. Rumania proper has an area of only
46,709 square miles, but the countries of the Rumanians occupy at least
twice that extent, and their numbers exceed 8,000,000, most of whom dwell
in a compact mass on the Lower Danube and the adjoining portions of
45
Hungary and Russia.
The Roman territories on the Lower Danube almost encircle the
mountain {156} masses of the Eastern Carpathians, as will be seen by a
glance at our map, but only about one-half of this territory has been formed
into an autonomous state, the remainder belonging to Hungary and Russia.
If the national ambition of the Rumanians were to be realised, the natural
centre of their country would not lie within the actual limits of the territory,
but at Hermannstadt (called Sibiu by the Wallachians), or elsewhere on the
northern slope of the Carpathians. Thrust beyond the Carpathians, and
extending from the Iron Gate to the upper affluents of the Pruth, the
independent Rumanians occupy a country of most irregular shape, and
separated into two distinct portions by the river Sereth and one of its
tributaries, which join the most advanced spur of the Eastern Carpathians to
the great bend of the Lower Danube. To the north of this boundary lies
Moldavia, thus named after a tributary of the Sereth; to the south-west and
west is Wallachia, or the “Plain of the Welsh,” i.e. of the Latins. This plain,
the tzara Rumaneasca , or Roman-land proper, is intersected by numerous
parallel water-courses, forming as many secondary boundaries, and the
river Olto separates it into Great Wallachia to the east, and Little Wallachia
to the west. The Danube forms the political boundary down to its mouth. It
is a wide and sinuous river; below the Iron Gate, lakes, forests, and swamps
render access to its banks almost impossible in many places; and migratory
nations and conquerors, instead of crossing it, as they could easily have
done in Austria and Bavaria, rather sought to avoid it by seeking for a
passage through the mountains to the north. The abrupt bend of the Lower
Danube and its extensive swampy delta still further shielded the plains of
Wallachia, and invaders not provided with vessels were thus turned to the
north, in the direction of the Carpathians. The lowlands of Moldavia were

protected, though in a less degree, by the rivers Dnieper, Bug, Dniester, and
Pruth running parallel with each other.

Fig. 43.—T HE R UMANIANS. Μ

{157}
But, in spite of these natural bulwarks, it remains matter for surprise, and
proves the singular tenacity of the Rumanians, that they preserved their
traditions, their language, and nationality, in spite of the numerous
onslaughts from invaders of every race to which they were exposed. Ever
since the retreat of the Roman legions, the peaceable cultivators of these
plains were preyed upon so frequently by Goths, Huns, and Pecheneges, by
Slavs, Bulgars, and Turks, that their extinction as a race appeared to be
inevitable. But they have emerged from every deluge which threatened to
destroy them, thanks, no doubt, to the superior culture for which they were
indebted to their ancestors, and again claim a place amongst independent
nations. They have fully justified their old proverb, which says, Romun no
pere ! —“the Roman perishes not.”
The Transylvanian Alps lie within the territory of the Rumanians, who
occupy both slopes. Their upper valleys, however, are but thinly inhabited,

and we may travel for days without meeting with any habitations excepting
the rude huts of shepherds. The political boundary traced along the crest of
the mountains is merely an imaginary line, passing through the forest
solitudes of vast extent. Excepting near the only high-road, and the paths
which join Transylvania to the plains of Wallachia, these mountains remain
in a state of nature. The chamois is still hunted there, and not long since
even bisons were met with. The Tsigani penetrates these mountains in
search of the brown or black bears which he exhibits in the villages. He
places a jar filled with brandy and honey near the beast’s haunt, and, as
soon as the bear and his family have become helplessly intoxicated, they are
seized and placed in chains.
The physical configuration of Rumania is extremely simple. In Moldavia
low ridges running parallel with the high mountain chain extend from the
north-west to the south-east, being separated from each other by the valleys
of the Bistritza, Moldava, and Sereth, and sinking down gradually into the
plains of the Danube. In Wallachia the southern spurs of the Transylvanian
Alps ramify with remarkable regularity, and the torrents which descend
from them all run in the same direction. The rivers, whether they rise at the
foot of the hills or traverse the entire width of the mountains, such as the
Sil, Shil, or Jiul, the Olto or Aluta, and the Buseo, turn towards the east
before their waters mingle with those of the Danube.
The slope of the hills is pretty uniform from the crest of the mountains to
the plain of the Danube, and the zones of temperature and vegetation
succeed each other with singular regularity. Summits covered with forests
of conifers and birch, and clad with snow during winter, rise near the
frontiers of Transylvania. These are succeeded by mountains of inferior
height, where beeches and chestnuts predominate, and all the picturesque
beauties of European forest scenery are met with. Lower still we come upon
gentle hills, with groves of oaks and maples, and their sunny sides covered
with vines. Finally, we enter the wide plains of the Danube, with their fruit
trees, poplars, and willows. The zone lying between the high mountains and
the plain abounds in localities rendered delightful by picturesque rocks,
luxuriant and varied verdure, and limpid streams. In this “happy {158}

Arcadia” we meet with most of the large monasteries, magnificent castles
with domes and towers, standing in the midst of parks and gardens. As to
the plains, they are no doubt barren and monotonous in many places, but the
villagers, though their habitations are half buried in the ground, enjoy the
magnificent prospect of the blue mountains which bound the horizon. The
most characteristic objects in these lowlands are the huge hay-ricks already
figured upon Trajan’s column at Rome.

Fig. 44.—T HE R IVERS S HIL AND O LTO. Μ
Scale 1 : 1,400,000.

{159}
The Rumanian campagna is a second Lombardy, not because of the high
state of its agriculture, but because of the fertility of its soil, the beauty of

the sky, and of the distant views. Unfortunately there are no mountain
barriers to protect it against the cold north-easterly winds which
predominate throughout the year. Extremes of cold and heat have to be
46
encountered. The vines have to be covered with earth to protect them
against the colds of winter; and in South-eastern Wallachia, which is most
exposed to the violence of the winds, it happens sometimes that herds of
cattle and horses, flying before a snow-storm, precipitate themselves into
the floods of the Danube. Several districts suffer from want of rain, and are
veritable steppes. Amongst these are the plains of the Baragan, between the
Danube and Yalomitza, where bustards abound, and a tree is not met with
for miles.
Geologically we meet with a regular succession of formations, from the
granite on the mountain summits to the alluvial deposits along the banks of
the Danube. The rocks encountered on these southern slopes of the
Carpathians are of the same kind as those found in Galicia on their northern
slopes, and they yield the same mineral products, such as rock-salt, gypsum,
lithographic stones, and petroleum. Tertiary strata predominate in the plains,
but to the east of Ploiesti and Bucharest only quaternary deposits of clay
and pebbles are met with, in which are found the bones of mammoths,
elephants, and mastodons. The muddy rivers which traverse these plains
have excavated themselves sinuous beds, and resemble large ditches.
The plain of Rumania, like that of Lombardy, is an ancient gulf of the sea
filled up by the débris washed down from the mountain sides. But though
the sea has retired, the Danube remains, pouring out vast volumes of water,
and offering great advantages to navigation. At the famous defile of the Iron
Gate, where this river enters the plain, its bed has a depth of 155 feet, its
surface lies 66 feet above the level of the Black Sea, and its volume exceeds
that of the combined rivers of Western Europe, from the Rhone to the
Rhine. The Romans, in spite of this, had thrown a bridge across the river,
immediately below the Iron Gate, which was justly looked upon as one of
the wonders of the world. This work of architecture, which Apollodorus of
Damas had erected in honour of Trajan, was pulled down by order of the
Emperor Hadrian, who was anxious to save the expenses of the garrison

required for its protection. There only remain now the two abutments, and
when the waters are low the foundations of sixteen out of the twenty piers
which supported the bridge may still be seen. A Roman tower, which has
given name to the little town of Turnu Severin, marks the spot where the
Romans first placed their foot upon the soil of Dacia. The passage from
Servia to Rumania is as important as it was of yore, but modern industry
has not yet replaced Trajan’s bridge.
The Danube, like most rivers of our northern hemisphere, presses upon
its right bank, and this accounts for the difference between its Wallachian
and Bulgarian banks. The latter, gnawed by the floods, rises steeply into
little hills and {160} terraces, whilst the former rises gently, and merges
almost imperceptibly in the plains of Wallachia. Swamps, lakes, creeks, and
the remains of ancient river beds form a riverine network, enclosing
numerous islands and sand-banks. These channels are subject to continual
change, and to the south of the Yalomitza may still be seen a line of swamps
and lagoons, which marks the course of an ancient river no longer existing.
The lowlands on the Wallachian side of the Danube are constantly
increasing in extent, whilst Bulgaria continuously suffers losses of territory.
The latter, however, is amply compensated for this by the salubrity of its
soil and the fine sites for commercial emporiums which it offers. It is said
that the beaver, which has been exterminated almost in every other part of
Europe, is still common in these half-drowned lands of Wallachia.
At a distance of thirty-eight miles from the sea, in a straight line, the
Danube strikes against the granitic heights of the Dobruja, and abruptly
turns to the north, subsequently to spread out into a delta. In the course of
this détour it receives its last tributaries of importance, viz. the Moldavian
Sereth and the Pruth. Thirty miles below the mouth of the latter the Danube
bifurcates. Its main branch, known as that of Kilia, conveys about two-
thirds of the entire volume of its waters to the Black Sea, and forms the
frontier between Rumania and Turkish Bulgaria. The southern branch, or
that of Tulcha, flows entirely through Turkish territory. It separates into two
branches, of which that of Sulina is the main artery of navigation.

The main branch of the river is of the utmost importance when
considering the changes wrought upon the surface of the earth through
aqueous agencies. Below Ismail it ramifies into a multitude of channels,
which change continuously, new channels being excavated, whilst others
become choked with alluvial deposits carried down by the floods. Twice the
waters of the river are reunited into a single channel before they finally
spread out into a secondary delta jutting into the Black Sea. The exterior
development of this new land amounts to about twelve miles, and
supposing the sea to be of a uniform depth of thirty-three feet, it would
advance annually at the rate of 660 feet. Yet, in spite of this rapid increase,
the coast, at the Kilia mouth, juts out far less to the east than it does in the
southern portion of the delta, and we may conclude from this that the
ancient gulf of the sea, now filled up by the alluvial deposits brought down
47
by the Kilia branch, was far larger and deeper than those to the south. On
examining a map of the Danubian delta, it will be found that, by prolonging
the coast-line of Bessarabia towards the south, it crosses the delta. This is
the ancient coast. It rises above the half-drowned plains like an
embankment, through which the branches of the river forced themselves a
passage to the sea. The alluvium brought down by the Sulina and St.
George’s mouths has been spread over a vast plain lying outside this
embankment, whilst that carried down through what is at present the main
branch forms only a small archipelago of ill-defined islands {161} beyond it.
We may conclude from this that the latter is of more recent origin than the
other arms.
In the course of its gradual encroachment upon the sea, the river has cut
off several lakes of considerable extent. On the coast between the mouth of
the Dniester and the delta of the Danube there are several lagoons, or
limans , of inconsiderable depth, the water of which evaporates during the
heat of summer, depositing a thin crust of salt. In their general
configuration, the nature of the surrounding land, and parallelism of the
rivers which flow into them, these sheets of water are very much like the
lakes met with more to the west, as far as the mouth of the Pruth. These
latter, however, are filled with fresh water, and the sandy barriers at their

lower ends separate them not from the Black Sea, but from the Danube.
There can be no doubt that these lakes were anciently gulfs of the sea,
similar in all respects to the lagoons still existing along the coast. The
Danube, by converting its ancient gulf into a delta, separated them from the
sea, and their saline water was replaced by fresh water carried down by the
rivers. The existing saline lagoons will undergo the same metamorphosis, in
proportion as the delta of the Danube gains upon the sea.

Fig. 45.—T HE D ANUBE AND Y ALOMITZA. Μ
Scale 1 : 1,443,000.

The plains of Wallachia were defended formerly by an ancient line of
fortifications passing to the north of these Danubian lakes and lagoons, and
known as “Trajan’s Wall,” like the ditches, walls, and entrenched camps in
the Southern Dobruja. The inhabitants ascribe their construction to Cæsar,
although they are of {162} much later date, having been erected by Trajan as

a protection against the Visigoths. This ancient barrier of defence coincided
pretty nearly with the political boundary between Russian and Rumanian
Bessarabia, and extended probably to the west of the Pruth, across the
whole of Moldavia and Wallachia. Vestiges of it still met with there are
known as the “Road of the Avares.” A second wall, still traceable between
Leova and Bender, defended the approaches to the valley of the Danube.

In spite of the diverse races which have overrun, conquered, or
devastated their territory, the inhabitants of Rumania, more fortunate than
their neighbours, have preserved their unity of race and language.
Wallachians and Moldavians form one people, and not only have they kept
intact their national territory, but they have actually encroached upon the
territories of their neighbours. Throughout Rumania, with the exception of
that portion of Bessarabia ceded by the Western powers after the Crimean
war, the inhabitants belonging to alien races are in the minority.
The origin of this Latin-speaking nation is still shrouded in mystery. Are
they the descendants of Getæ and Latinised Dacians, or does the blood of
Italian colonists brought thither by Trajan, of legionaries and Roman
soldiers, predominate amongst them? To what extent have they become
amalgamated with their neighbours, the Slavs and Illyrians? What share had
the Celts in the formation of their nationality? Are the “Little” Wallachians,
the “men with the eighty teeth,”—so called on account of their bravery,—
the descendants of Celts? We cannot say with certainty, for men of learning
like Shafarik and Miklosich differ on all these points. The vast plains at
present inhabited by the Rumanians became a wilderness in the third
century, when the Emperor Aurelian compelled their inhabitants to migrate
to the right bank of the Danube. If it is true that the descendants of these
emigrants ever returned to the seats of their ancestors, in the meantime
occupied by Slavs, Magyars, and Pecheneges, when did they do so?
Miklosich presumes that they did so towards the close of the fifth century;
Roesler thinks in the fourteenth, although ancient chroniclers of the
eleventh century mention Rumanians as dwelling in the Carpathians. Other
authorities deny that there was any re-immigration; they maintain that the

residue of the Latinised population sufficed for reconstituting the
nationality. Thus much is certain, that this small people has increased
wonderfully, and has become now the preponderating race on the Lower
Danube and in Transylvania.

WALLACHIANS (VALAKHS).

Even in the seventeenth century the language spoken by the Rumanians
was treated as a rural dialect, and Slavonian was used in churches and
courts of justice. At the present day, on the contrary, Rumanian patriots are
anxious to purge their language of all Servian words, and of Greek and
Turkish expressions introduced during the dominion of the Osmanli. The
“Romans” of the Danube are endeavouring to polish their tongue, so that it
may rank with Italian and French. They have abandoned the Russian
characters, and their vocabulary is being continually enriched by new words
derived from the Latin. The idiom spoken in the towns, which was the most
impure {163} formerly, in consequence of the influx of strangers, has now

become more Latin than that spoken in the country. There are, however,
about two hundred words not traceable to any known tongue, and these are
supposed to be a remnant of the ancient Dacian spoken at the period of the
Roman invasion. The Wallachian differs, moreover, from the Latin tongues
of Western Europe by always placing the article and the demonstrative
pronoun after the noun. The same rule obtains in Albanian and Bulgarian,
and Miklosich is probably right when he looks upon this as a feature of the
ancient language of the aborigines.
These niceties, however, are altogether unnoticed by the mass of the
people. The Rumanian peasant is proud of the ancient conquerors of his
country, and looks upon himself as the descendant of the patricians of
Rome. Several of his customs, at the birth of children, betrothals, or burials,
recall those observed by the Romans, and the dance of the Calushares , it is
said, may be traced back to the earliest Italian settlers. The Wallachian is
fond of talking about Father Trajan, to whom he attributes all those feats
which in other countries are associated with Hercules, Fingal, or Ossian.
Many a mountain valley has been rent asunder by Trajan’s powerful hand;
and the avalanches descending from the hills are spoken of as Trajan’s
thunder. The Rumanian completely ignores Getæ, Dacians, or Goths,
though in the hills we still meet with tall men having blue eyes and long
flaxen hair, who are probably descended from the aboriginal inhabitants of
the country.
The Rumanians have generally fine sunburnt features, fair hair,
expressive eyes, a mouth finely shaped, and beautiful teeth. They allow
their hair to grow long, and sometimes even prefer to expatriate themselves
to sacrificing it to the exigencies of military service. They exhibit grace in
all their movements, are indefatigable on the march, and support the
heaviest labour without complaining. Even the Wallachian herdsman, with
his sheepskin cap, or cashula , his wide leather belt used as a pocket, a
sheepskin thrown over his shoulders, and drawers which recall those of the
Dacians sculptured on Trajan’s Column, is noble in his bearing. In the large
towns, where much intermixture has taken place with Greeks, Southern
Russians, and Magyars, the brown complexion predominates. The

Rumanian women are grace itself. They always charm us by taste and
neatness, whether they have adopted a modern dress or still patronise the
national costume, consisting of an embroidered chemisette, a floating vest,
a party-coloured apron, a golden net, and golden sequins placed in the hair.
These external advantages are combined in the Rumanian with quickness of
apprehension, a gay spirit, and the gift of repartee, which entitle them to be
called the Parisians of the Orient.
In the midst of this homogeneous Rumanian population we meet with
Bulgarian colonists, whose number has increased recently in consequence
of the persecutions of Turks and Greeks. The character of the Bulgarians
born in the country has undergone considerable modifications. They are at
present the most industrious tillers of the soil, and in the vicinity of large
towns they occupy themselves principally with horticulture. Many of these
Bulgarians live in that {164} portion of Bessarabia which was ceded by
Russia in 1855. They settled there in 1829, more particularly in the Budzak ,
or southern “corner” of Bessarabia, and their fields are better tilled, their
roads in better condition, than those of their Moldavian neighbours. Their
villages still bear Tartar names, from the time when their country was
occupied by Nogai Tartars, and they contrast favourably with the villages of
the surrounding peoples. Bolgrad, the capital of this colony, is a small
bustling town, the schools of which enjoy a high reputation. These
Bulgarians, so distinguished for industry, sobriety, and thrift, have more or
less amalgamated with Russians, Greeks, and gipsies, and they talk almost
every language of the East.

Fig. 46.—E THNOLOGICAL M AP OF M OLDAVIAN B ESSARABIA. Μ

The Russians of Moldavian Bessarabia have their settlements on the
banks of the Danube, to the east of these Bulgarian colonies. They, too, are
good agriculturists. The Russians met with in the towns are generally
engaged in commerce, and enjoy a high reputation for honesty. Most of
them belong to the old sect of the Lipovani , and fled from Russia about a
century ago to escape religious persecution. They nearly all speak
Rumanian. Vilkof, a village near the mouth of the Danube, is almost
exclusively occupied by these Lipovani, who are expert fishermen, and
share the produce of their labour in common. Others amongst the Russians
belong to the sect of the Skoptzi , or “mutilated,” which is said to recruit
itself by stealing children. These Skoptzi are recognised by their portliness
and smooth faces, and at Bucharest they are reputed to be excellent
coachmen.
Magyar Szeklers from Transylvania, known in the country as Changhei ,
are the only other foreign element of the population occupying distinct
settlements. These Changhei, who first came into the country when the
Kings of Hungary were masters of the valley of the Sereth, are gradually

becoming Rumanians {165} in dress and language, and would have become
so long ago were they not Roman Catholics, whilst the people among whom
they live are Greeks. They are joined annually by a few compatriots from
Transylvania, attracted by the mild climate and the fertility of the soil. In
spring and autumn large bands of Hungarian reapers and labourers descend
into the plains of Moldavia.
The Hellenic element was strongly represented last century, when the
government of the country was farmed out by the Sultan to Greek
merchants of Constantinople. At the present time the Greeks are not
numerous—not exceeding, perhaps, 10,000 souls, even if we include
amongst them Hellenized Zinzares—but they occupy influential positions
as managers of estates or merchants, and the export of corn is almost
exclusively in their hands. Traces of the ancient government of these
Phanariotes still exist in the language of the country, and in the relationships
resulting from intermarriages between seignorial families. Far more
numerous than these Greeks, and of greater importance, are the members of
those homeless nations—the Jews and Tsigani (or gipsies). A few Spanish
Jews are met with in the large towns, but the majority are “German” Jews,
who have come hither from Poland, Little Russia, Galicia, and Hungary. As
publicans and middlemen they come into close contact with the poor
people, and they are universally detested, not on account of their religion,
but because of the wonderful skill with which they manage to secure the
savings of the people. Imaginary crimes of all kinds are attributed to them,
and they have repeatedly been exposed to maltreatment on the frivolous
charge of having eaten little children at their Passover. The Rumanians,
however, can hardly manage without these detested Jews, and their laws, by
preventing the Jews from acquiring land, fortify their commercial
monopoly. The Jews, if certain estimates may be credited, constitute one-
fifth of the total population of Moldavia. The Armenians, the other great
commercial people of the Orient, are represented by a few flourishing
colonies, more especially in Moldavia. These Haikanes are the descendants
of immigrants who settled in the country at various epochs between the
eleventh and seventeenth centuries. They live amongst themselves, and,

though not exactly liked by the people, they have known how to avoid
becoming objects of hatred. A few Armenians from Constantinople, and
speaking Turkish, are met with on the Lower Danube.
The Tsigani, or gipsies, so despised formerly, become merged by degrees
in the rest of the population. Not long ago they were slaves, the property of
the State, of boyards, or monasteries. They led a wandering life—working,
trafficking, or stealing for the benefit of their masters. They were divided
into castes, the principal of which were the lingurari , or spoon-makers;
ursari , or bear-leaders; ferrari , or smiths; aurari , or collectors of gold
dust; and lautari , or musicians. These latter were the most polished of all,
and were employed to celebrate the glory and the virtues of the boyards.
They are now the minstrels of the country and the musicians of the town.
Very few in number are the Netotzi , a degraded caste who live in woods or
tents, subsist upon the foulest food, and do not bury their dead. The Tsigani
were assimilated in 1837 with the peasantry, and since {166} their
emancipation nearly all of them lead a settled life, cultivating the soil with
great care, or exercising some handicraft. The fusion between Tsigani and
Rumanians is making rapid progress, for both races have the same religion
and speak the same language. Intermarriages between the two are frequent,
and in a time not far off the Tsigani of Rumania will be a thing of the past.
48
They are supposed still to number between 100,000 and 300,000 souls.
The Rumanian nation is still in a state of transition from a feudal to a
modern epoch. The revolution of 1848 shook the ancient system to its
foundation, but did not destroy it. As recently as 1856 the peasants were
attached to the soil. They had no rights, but were at the mercy of the
boyards and monasteries whose soil they were doomed to till, and lived in
miserable hovels. The whole of the country and its inhabitants belonged to
five or six thousand boyards, who were either the descendants of the ancient
“braves,” or had purchased their patents of nobility. Most of these boyards
were only small proprietors, and nearly the whole of the land belonged to
seventy feudatories in Wallachia, and three hundred in Moldavia.
This state of affairs led to the most frightful demoralisation amongst
masters and serfs, and even the good qualities of the Rumanian—his

energy, his generosity, and friendliness—were turned into evil. The nobles
lived far away from their estates, spending the income forwarded by their
Greek bailiffs in debauchery and gambling. The peasants worked but little,
for they had no share in the produce of the soil; they were mistrustful and
full of deceit, as are all slaves; they were ignorant and superstitious, for they
depended for their education upon illiterate and fanatical priests. Their
popes were magicians, and cured maladies by incantations and holy
philtres. As to the monks, some of them were rich proprietors, as rapacious
as the temporal lords; others lived on alms, having exchanged a life of
slavery for mendicity.
Not long ago the Rumanians, deprived of all education except that
supplied by their doinas , or ancient songs, were lost almost in mediæval
darkness. Even now some of the ancient customs of their ancestors survive
in the rural districts. Funerals are attended by hired weeping women, whose
shrieks accompany the farewell of relatives. Into the coffin they place a
stick upon which to rest when crossing the Jordan, a piece of cloth to serve
as a garment, and a coin as a bribe to St. Peter for opening the gate of
heaven. Nor are wine and bread forgotten for the journey. Red-haired
people are suspected of returning to earth in the guise of a dog, a frog, or a
flea, and to penetrate into houses in order to suck the blood of good-looking
young girls. In their case it is as well to close the coffin-lid tightly, or, still
better, to pierce the throat of the defunct with a stick.
The peasantry will doubtless no longer be haunted by these
hallucinations, for the {167} moral and intellectual progress of the nation has
kept pace with its material prosperity since the peasant has cultivated his
own land. Officially made a freeman in 1856, but held for several years
afterwards in a kind of limited bondage, the peasant now owns at least a
portion of the land. By a law passed in 1862, each head of a family is
entitled to a plot of land from seven to sixty-seven acres in extent, and ever
since that time the peasants have gained immensely in self-respect. His
land, though still cultivated with the ancient Roman plough, and deprived of
manure, produces immense quantities of cereals, the sale of which brings
wealth into the country and encourages progress. Rumania is now one of

the great corn-exporting countries of Europe, and in favourable years, when
the crops are neither eaten up by locusts nor destroyed by frosts, its exports
exceed those of Hungary. In less than ten years the export of wheat, maize,
barley, and oats has doubled, and the sum annually realised varies between
£4,000,000 and £8,000,000 sterling.
Unfortunately the peasants eat but little of the corn they grow. They are
content with the maize, from which they prepare their mamaligo and the
detestable spirits which cheer their hearts on a hundred and ninety-four
annual fête days. The cultivation of the vine, which was altogether
neglected formerly, is likewise making progress, and the produce of the
foot-hills of the Carpathians is justly esteemed. The time is past now when
“Wallachian” and “herdsman” were synonyms throughout the East. Still,
nearly one-fourth of the area of the country remains uncultivated, and the
soil is allowed to lie fallow every third year. Moldavia is better cultivated,
upon the whole, than Wallachia, and this is principally owing to the fact of
the Moldavian boyards residing upon their estates, and taking a pride in
their management. Progress, however, is apparent throughout the country,
and there is hardly a large estate without its steam threshing-machine. Even
the small proprietors are gradually introducing improved methods of
cultivation, and in many villages they have formed co-operative
49
associations for the cultivation of extensive tracts of country.
Rumania is essentially an agricultural country. The ores of the
Carpathians are not utilised, for there are no roads which give access to
them. The petroleum wells only supplied 3,810,000 gallons in 1873. Four of
the principal salt-works are carried on by Government, partly with the aid
of convict labour, and yield annually 80,000 tons of salt. The fisheries are
of some importance. The inhabitants on the Lower Danube salt the fish
which abound in the river and the neighbouring lakes, and prepare caviare
from sturgeons. There are no manufactories excepting near the large towns,
and the country is noted only for its carpets, embroidered cloth and leather,
and pottery. The housewives are famed for their confectionery.
50
Commerce is annually on the increase. Its only outlet in former times
was {168} the Danube. Nearly the whole produce of the country was carried

to Galatz, at the bend of the river, upon which the principal routes of the
country converge. For many years to come the Danube will remain the great
commercial highway of the country; the Pruth, too, is navigable for small
steamers as far as Sculeni, to the north of Yassy; whilst the numerous rivers
descending from the Carpathians will always prove useful for the
conveyance of timber. New outlets have been created by the construction of
railways. Rumania is now joined to the railway systems of Austria and
Hungary, and the proposed bridge across the Danube will place it in direct
communication with Varna, on the Black Sea. The level nature of the
country facilitates the construction of railways, but its inhabitants look upon
their extension with a feeling of apprehension, for they fancy that a
51
commercial invasion may bring in its train a military one.
The Rumanians complain much about the left bank of the Sulina branch
of the Danube not having been ceded to them by the treaty of Paris. In
former times the whole of the delta of the Danube belonged to Moldavia, as
is proved by the ruins of a town built by the Rumanians on the southern
bank of the river, opposite to Kilia. Up to the close of last century the
jurisdiction of the Moldavian governor of Ismail extended to the port of
Sulina, and he was charged with keeping the mouth of the river free from
obstructions. The Western powers, in spite of this, allowed Turkey to
occupy the whole of the delta, whilst they confined the Rumanians to the
left bank of the Kilia branch. The country, consequently, has no direct
access to the Black Sea, except by means of small vessels, for the mouth of
the Kilia branch is obstructed by a bar. M. Desjardins and other engineers
who have devoted some attention to the subject propose to construct a ship
canal, about eight miles in length, which will connect the Danube with the
Bay of Sibriani. In the meantime Rumania is at liberty to make use of the
Sulina mouth, which is kept open at the expense of the Western powers, and
a canal, therefore, hardly appears to be called for.
Bucharest (or Bucuresci, pron. Bukureshti), the capital of Wallachia and
of the whole of Rumania, already numbers amongst the great cities of
Europe. Next to Constantinople and Buda-Pest, it is the most populous town
of South-eastern Europe, and its inhabitants fondly speak of it as the “Paris

of the Orient.” The town not very long since was hardly more than a
collection of villages, very picturesque from a distance on account of
numerous towers and glittering domes rising above the surrounding
verdure, but very unpleasant within. But Bucharest has been transformed
rapidly with the increasing wealth of its inhabitants. It may boast now of
wide and clean streets, bounded by fine houses, of public squares full of
animation, and of well-kept parks, and fully deserves now its sobriquet of
the “joyful city.”
Yassy (Jasi, or Yashi), which became the capital of Moldavia when
Suchova was annexed by Austria, occupies a position far less central than
does Bucharest, but the fertility of the surrounding country, the proximity of
the navigable {169} Pruth and of Russia, with which it maintains a brisk
commerce, and its position on the high-road joining the Baltic to the Black
Sea, have caused it to increase rapidly in population. It is a flourishing town
now, though no longer the seat of an independent government. Built upon
the foot-hills of the Carpathians, the city presents itself magnificently from
afar, and its exterior is not belied by its finer quarters. Jews, Armenians,
Russians, Tsigani, Tartars, and Magyars are numerously represented
amongst its population, which is semi-Oriental in type. We may almost
fancy ourselves standing upon the threshold of Asia. The church of the
Three Saints is distinguished for its originality, and is a masterpiece of
ornamentation in the Moorish style.

Fig. 47.—V IEW OF B UCHAREST.

All the other towns of Rumania are indebted for their importance to their
position on commercial high-roads. Botosani, in Northern Moldavia, lies on
the road to Galicia and Poland, and the same may be said of Falticeni,
whose international fairs are always well attended. Commerce causes the
towns on the Danube to flourish. Vilkof is a great mart for fish and caviare;
Kilia, the ancient Achillea, or city of Achilles; Ismail, where the Russian
Lipovani are numerous; Reni; Galatz, said to be an ancient colony of the
Galatians, now the {170} most important commercial emporium on the
Lower Danube, and seat of the European commissioners for its regulation;
Braila, a poor village as long as the Turks held it, but now important on

account of its grain trade, and the literary centre of the Bulgarians. All these
towns, though situated on the banks of the Danube, may be looked upon
almost as ports of the Black Sea, through which the produce of the country,
and especially its grain, finds an outlet to foreign markets. Giurgiu (Jurjevo)
is the port of Bucharest on the Danube; Turnu-Severinu is the gateway of
Wallachia, below the great narrows of the river; Craiova, Pitesci, Ploiesti,
Buzeu, and Focsani form the terminal points of the roads descending from
the high valleys of Transylvania. Alecsandria, a town recently built in the
centre of the plain which extends from Bucharest to the Olto, has become a
depôt for agricultural produce.
Formerly, when incessant wars rendered a strong strategical position of
greater importance than commercial advantages, the capital of the country
was established in the very heart of the Carpathians. In the thirteenth
century it was at Campu-Lungu, in the midst of the mountains, and
subsequently it was transferred to Curtea d’Argesia, founded by Prince
Negoze Bessaraba in the beginning of the sixteenth century. Of this ancient
capital there remain now only a monastery and a wonderful church: the
walls, cornices, and towers are covered with sculptures, like the work of a
jeweller. Targu-Vestea, or Tirgovist, on the Yalomitza, was the third capital,
but of the fine palace built there by the domni there remain now only
52
blackened walls.
Rumania includes the two ancient principalities of Wallachia and
Moldavia, and forms a semi-independent state under the protection of the
great powers, and paying an annual tribute of about £40,000 to the Porte.
The country has placed a member of the Hohenzollern family at the head of
the State. The constitution of 1866 confers upon this prince the right of
appointing all public functionaries and the officers of the army, of coining
money, and of pardoning. All laws require his signature before they can be
enforced. He enjoys a civil list of £48,000.
The legislative powers are vested in two chambers, the members of
which are elected by a process designed to favour the interests of the rich.
All Rumanians above twenty-one years of age, except servants in receipt of
wages, are inscribed in the electoral lists. They are divided into four

“colleges,” or classes, having widely different privileges. The first college
includes all those electors of a district whose income from landed property
amounts to £132 a year; electors having an income of between £44 and
£132 form a second college; merchants and {171} tradesmen of the towns
paying a tax of 23s. annually, Government pensioners, half-pay officers,
professors and graduates of universities, form the third college; and the
remainder of the electors belong to the fourth college. The first two colleges
elect a deputy each for their district; the third college elects from one to six
deputies for each town, according to its size; the fourth college elects
delegates by whom the representatives are chosen.
The Senate represents more especially the large landed proprietors.
Senators must have an income of £352, and are elected by the landed
proprietors whose income amounts to at least £132 a year. The universities
of Bucharest and Yassy are represented by a senator each, elected by the
professors, and the crown prince, the metropolitan, and the diocesan
bishops are ex-officio members of the Senate. Senators are elected for eight,
and deputies for four years.
The Rumanian constitution grants all those rights and privileges usually
set forth in documents of that kind. The right of meeting is guaranteed;
there is liberty of the press; the municipal officers and mayors are elected,
but the Prince may intervene in the case of towns inhabited by more than a
thousand families; the punishment of death is abolished, except in time of
war; and education is free and compulsory “wherever there are schools.”
There is liberty of religion, though there is a State Church, and Christians
alone can be naturalised. No marriage is legal unless it has been consecrated
by a priest. The Rumanian Church, as far as dogmas are concerned, is that
of the Greeks, but it is altogether independent of the Greek patriarch
residing at Constantinople, and is governed by its own Synod. Most of the
monasteries have been secularised.
The country is divided into four judicial districts, each having a court of
appeal, whilst a supreme court sits at Bucharest. The French codes, slightly
modified, were introduced in 1865.

The army is partly modelled upon that of Prussia. All citizens are called
upon to serve sixteen years, eight of which are passed in the standing army
or its reserve, and eight in the militia. The National Guard includes all men
up to fifty not belonging to either of the other categories. By calling out all
its men, Rumania can easily send an army of 100,000 men into the field.
There are likewise a few gunboats on the Danube.
The finances of Rumania are in a more satisfactory condition than those
of most other states of Europe. The Government has certainly been living
upon loans, for which eight per cent. has to be paid, and nearly the whole of
the annual income is spent upon the payment of interest, the army, and the
revenue services. The credit of Rumania is, however, good, for the loans are
secured upon vast domains, the property of the secularised monasteries,
several thousand acres of which are sold every year. The sale of salt and the
53
manufacture of tobacco are Government monopolies.
Rumania is divided for administrative purposes into 33 departments and
164 districts, or plasi . There are 62 towns and 3,020 rural communes.

S E RVI A AND M ONT E NE GRO. *

S ERVIA.
ERVIA, like Rumania, was un­til re­cent­ly a semi-in­de­pen­dent
state, paying a tribute of £25,000 a year to the Porte, and
submitting to the presence of a Turkish garrison at Mali-
Zvornik, on the Bosnian frontier. But even these vestiges of
ancient oppression irritated the national pride to an
inconceivable degree, and the moment when a blow might be struck on
behalf of Servia and the neighbouring countries inhabited by Slavs still
groaning under the Turkish yoke was looked forward to with impatience.
The blow has been struck, and were it not for the support extended to it by
the great powers, Servia would ere this have ceased to exist as a semi-
independent state.
Servia, within its actual limits, includes only a small portion of the
northern slope of the mountains rising in the centre of the Balkan peninsula.
It is separated from Austro-Hungary by the Save and the Danube, but no
natural boundary divides it from Turkey; and the valleys of the Morava, the
Drina, and the Timok, the former in the centre, the others on the eastern and
western frontiers of the country, afford easy access to a foreign invader. The

difficulties to be surmounted by the latter would begin only after he had
entered the vast forests, the narrow valleys, and unfathomable klisuras
amongst the mountains.
The only plains of any extent are on the banks of the Save. Everywhere
else the country is hilly, rocky, or mountainous. The most prominent
mountain range is that which extends from the “Iron Gate” and the defile of
Kasan, on the Danube, through Eastern Servia, and forms a marked
continuation of the Transylvanian Alps, with which it agrees in geological
structure. In the northern portion of these Servian Carpathians, in the angle
formed by the confluence of the Danube and Morava, where masses of
porphyry have burst through limestones and schists, we find ourselves in
the great mineral region of Servia. Copper, {173} iron, and lead ores are
being worked here, especially at Maidanpek and Kuchaina, but the old zinc
and silver mines have been abandoned. The valley of the Timok, in the
southern portion of this mountain range, is likewise rich in minerals, and
gold dust is collected from the sand of the river. There are few valleys
which can rival that of the Timok in beauty and fertility, and the basin of
Knyashevatz, where the head-streams of the river unite, is more especially
distinguished by its rural beauty, sparkling rivulets flowing through the
meadows, vines covering the hills, and forests the surrounding mountains.
A narrow defile immediately below this basin leads into the valley of
Zaichar, near which, at Gamzigrad, there still exist ruins of a Roman
fortress, its walls and towers of porphyry in a capital state of preservation.
Looking northward from this position we perceive the Stol (3,638 feet),
whilst in the south-west there rises a huge pyramid of chalk, which might
almost be mistaken for the work of human hands. This is the Rtan (4,943
feet), at whose foot burst forth the hot springs of Banya, the most
frequented and efficacious of all Servia.
The valleys of the Morava and of its main tributary, the Bulgarian
Morava, divide Servia into two parts of unequal extent. The valley of the
Morava forms a natural highway between the Danube and the interior of
Turkey, passing through the frontier town of Alexinatz. A Roman road
formerly led along it. Krushevatz, the ancient capital of the Servian empire,

occupies the centre of a plain in the valley of the Servian Morava, not far
above the defile of Stalaj, where the two Moravas unite at the foot of a
promontory crowned with ruins. The remains of the palace of the Servian
tsar are still shown there, and it is stated that Krushevatz, at the height of
Servian power, had a circumference of three leagues. It is only a poor
village now.
The wildest mountain masses of Servia rise between the two Moravas,
their culminating point being the Kopaonik (6,710 feet), which attains a
greater height than any other summit between the Save and the Balkans. A
wide prospect of incomparable beauty opens from its base and rocky
summit, extending southwards over plains and mountains to the pinnacles
of the Skhar and the pyramidal Dormitor. In itself, however, the Kopaonik
is quite devoid of beauty, and where its slopes have been deprived of the
forests which once covered them, the bare rocks of serpentine present a
picture of utter desolation. Its valleys are far from fertile, their inhabitants
are sulky and poor, and many amongst them suffer from goître.
The mountains which extend to the north of the Kopaonik, along both
banks of the Ibar, are for the most part still clothed with oaks, beeches, and
conifers. The broad valley of the Servian Morava, rivalling in fertility the
plains of Lombardy, penetrates into these mountain masses. But they rise
again to the north of that river, attaining a height of 3,622 feet in the
mountain mass of Rudnik. Cretaceous rocks predominate, frequently
surmounted by granitic peaks. The valleys are narrow and tortuous. This is
the famous Sumadia, or “forest region” of Servia, which during the rule of
the Turks offered a safe asylum to the persecuted rayas, and in the war of
independence became the {174} citadel of Servian liberty. The little town of
Kraguyevatz, in one of its narrow valleys, was chosen to be the seat of
government, and it still retains a gun foundry, supplied with coal from the
basin of Chupriya. A secluded capital like this may have suited a people
constantly engaged in war, but when Servia entered upon a career of
progress the seat of government was removed to Belgrad. This city—the
Beográd, or “white town,” of the Servians, the Singidunum of the Romans,
and the Alba Græca of the Middle Ages—is delightfully situated upon a

hill near the confluence of the Danube and Save, and overlooks the swampy
plains of Syrmia. Belgrad, from its favourable geographical situation, has
become a place of much trade, and is likewise an important strategical
position.

Fig. 48.—C ONFLUENCE OF THE D ANUBE AND S AVE. Μ
Scale 1 : 1,420,000.

To the west of Belgrad we merely meet with hills, and with the fertile
plains watered by the Kolubara. It is only towards the south-west, on
nearing the Drina, that we again find ourselves in the midst of calcareous
mountains, attaining a height of 3,630 feet, and connected with spurs of the
Kopaonik in the south. This is one of the most picturesque portions of the
country. Ruins of houses and fortresses abound, amongst which those of
Ushitza are the most extensive. These fortresses have, however, failed to
protect the country, and no portion of Servia has more frequently been laid
waste by ruthless invaders.

BELGRADE.

In former times Servia could boast of some of the most extensive oak
forest in Europe. “To kill a tree is to kill a Servian,” says an ancient
proverb, dating probably from the time when the forests afforded shelter to
the oppressed rayas. This proverb, unfortunately, is no longer acted upon. In
many parts of the country the forests have disappeared, and the naked rock
obtrudes itself as in {175} Dalmatia and Carniola. A peasant in need of a
branch cuts down an entire tree, and the herdsmen are not content to feed
their bivouac fires with dry sticks, but must needs have an oak. The greatest
enemies of the forests, next to herdsmen, are goats and hogs, the former
browsing upon small trees and leaves, the latter laying bare the roots. An
old tree, thrown down by a tempest or sacrificed to the woodman’s axe, is
not replaced. Laws for the protection of the forests have certainly been
passed, but they are not enforced, and the wood required for fuel has to be
imported, in many instances, from Bosnia. The destruction of the forests has
naturally been attended by a deterioration of the climate. Mr. Edward

Brown, who travelled in Servia in the seventeenth century, tells us that the
Morava was then navigable for the greater part of its course; but at the
present time, owing to its irregularities, it is no longer available as a
navigable channel.
Servia, by despoiling the mountains of great forests, has got rid of the
wild animals which formerly infested them. Wolves, bears, wild boars,
previously so numerous, have almost disappeared, and those still met with
occasionally are supposed to come from the forests of Syrmia, crossing the
frozen Save in winter. The fauna and flora of Servia are gradually losing
their original features. The introduction of the domesticated animals and
cultivated plants from Austria has given to Servia a South German aspect.
Nor does the climate much differ from some parts of Southern Germany.
Servia, though under the same latitude as Tuscany, rejoices by no means in
an Italian climate. The Dalmatian or Bosnian mountain ramparts shut out
the vivifying south-westerly winds, whilst the dry and cold winds from the
steppes of Russia have free access over the plains of Wallachia. Strangers
do not readily acclimatise themselves, owing to abrupt changes of
55
temperature.
Servia includes within its limits but a small proportion of all the Servians
of Eastern Europe, but its inhabitants are probably not far wrong when they
look upon themselves as the purest representatives of their race. They are,
as a rule, tall, vigorous, with broad shoulders and an erect head. Their
features are marked, the nose straight and often aquiline, and the cheek-
bones a trifle prominent; the hair is abundant and rarely black, the eyes are
piercing and cold, and a well-cultivated moustache imparts a military air to
the men. The women, without being good-looking, have a noble presence,
and their semi-oriental costume is distinguished by an admirable harmony
of colours. Even in the towns, where French fashions carry the day, Servian
ladies occasionally wear the national dress, consisting of a red vest, a belt
and chemisette embroidered with pearls, strings of sequins, and a little fez
stuck jauntily upon the head.
Unfortunately the custom of the country requires that a Servian woman
should have an abundance of black hair and a dazzling white complexion.

Paint, dyes, and false tresses are universal in town and country. Even in the
most remote villages the peasant women dye their hair and paint their
cheeks, lips, {176} and eyebrows, frequently making use of poisonous
substances injurious to health. Rich country-people are, moreover, in the
habit of making an exhibition of their wealth by means of their clothes,
which they overload with gold and silver ornaments and gewgaws of every
kind. In some districts brides and young women wear a most extraordinary
head-dress, consisting of an enormous crescent of cardboard, to which are
attached nosegays, leaves, peacock feathers, and artificial roses with silver
petals. This heavy head-dress may symbolize the “burdens of matrimony;”
it certainly exposes the wearer to great inconvenience.
The Servians are honourably distinguished amongst the people of the
East by the nobility of their character, their dignified bearing, and, in spite
of recent events, incontestable bravery. For centuries they resisted
oppression, and, not­with­stand­ing their isolation and poverty, they
conquered their independence in the beginning of this century. They are
said to be idle and suspicious—qualities which their former servitude
accounts for—but at the same time honest and truthful. It is difficult to
cheat them, but they themselves never cheat. Equals when under the
dominion of the Turks, they are equals still. “There are no nobles amongst
us,” they say, “for we are all nobles.” In their clear and sonorous language,
so well suited to oratory, they fraternally address each other in the second
person singular. Even prisoners are looked upon as brothers, and it is
customary to permit a condemned criminal to visit his family on his giving
his word of honour to return to prison.
The ties of family and friendship are a great power in Servia. It
frequently happens that young men who have learnt to like each other take
an oath of fraternal friendship, in the manner of the brothers in arms of
Scythia, and this fraternity of heart is more sacred to them than that of
blood. It is a remarkable fact, and one which speaks favourably for the high
moral tone of the Servians, that their deep family affections and friendships
do not lead to incessant acts of retaliation and vengeance, as amongst their
neighbours the Albanians. The Servian is brave; he is always armed, but he

is also peaceable, and does not demand blood for blood. Still, like other
men, he is not perfect. As an agriculturist he follows the more obsolete
routine. He is ignorant and superstitious. The peasants firmly believe in
vampires, sorcerers, and magicians, and, in order to guard against their evil
influences, they rub themselves with garlic on Christmas-eve.
Land is held by families in common, as amongst the other Slavs of the
South. The ancient zadruga , such as it existed in the Middle Ages, is still
preserved, and has never been interfered with by Roman or German laws,
as in Dalmatia or Slavonia. On the contrary, the law of Servia protects this
ancient form of tenure, and, in cases of a disputed will, relatives by
adoption take precedence of those by blood. Servian patriots are desirous to
see these ancient customs respected, and the members of the Skupshtina , or
parliament, have never attacked this common proprietorship in the soil, for
they look upon it as one of the surest safeguards against pauperism. Servia
offers the best opportunity for studying agricultural {177} communities of
this kind. Nowhere else are the features of family life equally delightful.
The heavy day’s work is followed by an evening devoted to pleasure. The
children gather round their parents to listen to the warlike legends of old, or
the young men sing, accompanying themselves upon the guzla . All those
belonging to the association are looked upon as members of the family. The
staryeshina , or head of the community, has charge of the education of the
children, whom he is required to bring up as “good and honest citizens,
useful to their fatherland.” Yet, in spite of all these advantages, the
zadrugas decrease from year to year. The demands of commerce and
industry interfere with their accustomed routine, and they will hardly
survive much longer in their present form.
A great portion of Eastern Servia has been occupied by Wallachians, who
were invited to the country after the war of independence, when vast
districts had been depopulated. These new settlers, being more prolific than
their neighbours, gradually gain upon the Servians, and already some of
their colonies are met with on the western bank of the Morava. Many
Servian villages have become Wallachian as far as language can make them

so. It is a strange fact that these Rumanian colonists should prosper in
Servia, whilst Servian colonists from Hungary and Slavonia do not.
Zinzares, or Southern Wallachians, are met with in most towns, where
they work as masons, carpenters, and bricklayers.
Bulgarians have settled in the valleys of the Timok and Morava, in the
south-east. They are highly esteemed for their industry, and quickly
assimilate with the Servians. Near Alexinatz there is a small colony of
Albanians, whilst Tsigani, or gipsies, are met with in all parts of the
country. They profess to be Christians, and one of their principal
occupations is the manufacture of bricks. The Spanish Jews, so numerous
formerly at Belgrad, have most of them retired to Semlin, their places being
56
filled by German and Hungarian Jews.
Taken as a whole, Servia was a prosperous country before the recent war.
The population has increased rapidly since the declaration of independence,
but is not nearly as dense yet as in the neighbouring plains of Hungary or
Wallachia. Scarcely one-eighth of the area is under cultivation, and
agricultural operations are for the most part carried on in the rudest manner.
Excepting in the most fertile valleys, such as that of the Lower Timok, the
fields are allowed to lie fallow every second year. The exports of Servia
clearly exhibit the rudimentary condition of its agriculture, for they consist
principally of lean pigs, which find their way in thousands to the markets of
Germany, and of cattle. The peasant of Servia derives most of his revenue
from the sale of these animals. Within the last few years he has also
exported some wheat to the markets of Western Europe. If it were not for
the Bulgarian labourers who annually flock to the country in search of field-
57
work, Servia would not produce sufficient corn for its own consumption.
{178}
Industry throughout the country is still in its infancy. The Servian
despises all manual labour excepting agriculture, and it is for this reason he
looks down upon the German mechanics in the towns. Young men of the
least education aspire to government employment, and the bureaucratic
plague, which has wrought such injury in the neighbouring Austro-
Hungarian empire, is thus being developed. There are, however, others who

have studied at foreign universities, and who devote their energies to the
spread of education at home. The progress made in this respect within the
last few years has been enormous. In 1839 the sovereign of the country
could neither read nor write, whilst, at the present time, Servia, with its
numerous schools and colleges, is becoming the intellectual centre of the
58
Balkan peninsula.
The Servians have used their best efforts to remove from their country
everything reminding them of the ancient dominion of the Mussulman, and
they have nearly accomplished this. The Belgrad of the Turks has been
converted by them into a Western city, like Vienna or Buda-Pest; palaces in
European style have arisen in the place of mosques and minarets;
magnificent boulevards intersect the old quarters of the town; and the
esplanade, where the Turks exposed the heads of their victims stuck on
poles, has been converted into a park. Shabatz, on the Save, has become a
“little Paris;” Semendria (Smederevo), on the Danube, which gave the
signal of rebellion in 1806, has arisen like a phœnix from its ashes; whilst
Posharevatz, known as Passarovitz in the history of treaties, has likewise
been transformed. Progress is slower in the interior, but good roads now
extend to the most remote corners of the country.
Servia is an hereditary constitutional monarchy. The Prince, or Kniaz ,
governs with the aid of responsible ministers and of a senate; he
promulgates the laws, appoints all public functionaries, commands the
army, and signs the treaties. He rejoices in a civil list of £20,000. His
successor, in the case of there being no male heir, is to be elected by
universal suffrage. The Skupshtina , or national parliament, traces back its
origin to the earliest times of a Servian monarchy. It numbers 134 members,
of whom one-fourth are nominated by the Prince, and the remainder elected
by all male taxpayers. This parliament exercises legislative functions
conjointly with the Prince. In addition to it there exist rural parliaments in
each of the 1,063 obshtinas , or parishes, and these enjoy extended rights of
local self-government. The constitution provides for the election of a
Skupshtina of 536 members by universal suffrage, should extraordinary
events make such a meeting desirable. The affairs of the country have

hitherto been managed satisfactorily. A revenue of £554,000 sufficed for the
requirements of the State, and up to the outbreak of the war there existed no
public debt.
Religious liberty exists, but the Greek Church is declared to be that of the
State. It has been independent of the Patriarch of Constantinople since
1376, and {179} is governed by a synod consisting of the Archbishop of
Belgrad and the Bishops of Ushitza, Negotin, and Shabatz. The former is
appointed by the Prince. The high dignitaries of the Church are in receipt of
salaries, but ordinary priests are dependent upon fees and gifts. The
monasteries have been suppressed by a recent decision of the Skupshtina ,
and their revenues are to be devoted to educational purposes.
The military forces of the country consist of a standing army of about
4,000 men, and of a militia including all men capable of bearing arms up to
fifty years of age. The first ban of this militia is called out annually for
training, the second ban only in case of war. Servia is thus able to place an
army of 150,000 men in the field, but the efficiency of these badly trained
troops leaves much to be desired, as has been shown by recent events.
The country is divided into seventeen okrushias , or districts, viz.
Alexinatz, Belgrad, Chachak, Chupriya, Knyashevatz, Kraguyevatz, Kraina
(capital, Negotin), Krushevatz, Podrinye (Loznitza), Posharevatz, Rudnik
(Milanovitz), Shabatz, Smederevo, Tserna-Reka (Zaichar), Ushitza,
Valyevo, and Yagodina. The only towns of importance are Belgrad (27,000
inhabitants), Posharevatz (7,000 inhabitants), Shabatz (6,700 inhabitants),
and Kraguyevatz (6,000 inhabitants).

M ONTENEGRO.
The name Montenegro is a translation of the Servian Tsrnagora, or “black
mountains.” It is a curious designation for a country of white or greyish
calcareous mountains, whose colour even strikes the voyager on the
Adriatic. The name, according to some, is to be taken figuratively, and is to
be understood as designating a country of “bad” or “black” men; others are
of opinion that it refers to ancient pine forests which have now disappeared.
The Turks have never succeeded in subjugating the Montenegrins, who
found safety in their mountain fastnesses. Occasionally the Montenegrins
placed themselves under the protection of a foreign power, such as that of
Venice, but they never acknowledged the Sultan as their sovereign. The
mountains, however, to which they owe their independence, are at the same
time their weakness, for they isolate them from the rest of the world. A high
range of mountains, as well as a strip of Turkish territory, separates them
from their Servian kinsmen; another range, held by the Austrians, cuts them
off from the Gulf of Cattaro and the Adriatic Sea. The small Lake of Scutari
(Skodra) is their sea; the Zeta and Moracha, which feed it, are their national
rivers. If the Montenegrins were permitted to descend into the plains
without sacrificing their independence, the arid plateaux now inhabited by
them would soon be deserted by all but shepherds.
The eastern portion of Montenegro, which is known as the Berda, and
drained by the Moracha and its tributaries, is comparatively of easy access.
The mighty dolomitic pyramids of the Dormitor (8,550 feet) command its
valleys in the {180} north, whilst the rounded heights of Kom (9,000 feet)
bound it on the east. The Berda differs in no respect from most other
mountain countries. It is only in the western portion of the country, in
Montenegro proper, that we meet with features altogether distinct. We there
find ourselves in a labyrinth of cavities, valleys, and depressions, separated
by craggy calcareous ridges, abounding in narrow fissures, the hiding-
places of adders. Only the mountaineers are able to find their way in this
inextricable labyrinth. “When God created the world,” they tell you
laughing, “he held in his hand a sack full of mountains. Right above