# Travels and Discoveries in the Levant/Volume 1/Letter VII

A Levantine Steamer—Tour with Mr. Hughes—Ayasso—Greek Hospitality—Ascent of Mount Olympus—Pyrrha—Gulf of Kalloni—Ancient Remains at Temenos
VII.
Mytilene, September 30, 1852.
We have lost the eternal chirping of the summer insects, whizzing through the air all day, and spoiling their brilliant wings at night in the flame of my lamp. The great host of locusts has vanished with the summer; it is now some weeks since the long brown fringe of their dead bodies lay on the edge of the sea, forming a border two or three inches wide to the indented shore, which used to frizzle daily in the sim like a pen when you put the end of it into a candle.
Since I have been cut off from all English society, I amuse myself by going on board the steamers which call here, for the chance of exchanging a word with some passing traveller. The other day I saw a curious collection of Polish Jews going down from Constantinople to Jerusalem. They all stood in a row on the deck, with their faces to the east, and said their prayers while the vessel was anchored off Mytilene. One of the Greek boatmen who had taken me on board opened his eyes very wide at the new phenomenon. He had seen all manner of Christian and heathen folk congregated in these great floating Noah's arks, but never a row of Polish Jews. ​Hands, face, garments, beards, everything about them was Isabean colour.
In these days the Levantine steamers exhibit a curious mixture of people, a sort of miniature picture or microcosm of the Levant world. Half the quarter-deck is turned into a hypæthral harem, railed off for the accommodation of the ladies of some great pasha going down to Rhodes or Syria to grind his subjects, or up to Constantinople to bribe his way into advancement or out of a scrape. This chancel is guarded by a row of black eunuchs. The Turkish ladies not having often the chance of being so gazed upon, make the most of the opportunity, and contrive to let the breeze get under the corner of their veils from time to time, recovering the truant folds with a feigned confusion; "et se cupit ante videri." On the opposite side of the quarter-deck are the European and American travellers, with beards in various stages of development. On the other side of the funnel is an unclean mass of deck passengers,—generally a company or two of Turkish troops,—all eating garlic and bread with unanimous breath. Dotted about are grim fanatical-looking Turks, with green turbans and shaved heads, and beards of a severe cut, men of the ancient régime, who would delight to pound a Christian in a mortar and make him into ink to write verses of the Koran with, if they could. Then there are generally two or three German pilgrims, who have begged their way on foot from Cologne to Jerusalem, and are going back with a certificate to show that they have been there, to display in ​their native Deutschland. In a corner may be one or two pirates or brigands going up in irons to Constantinople to be executed, or to buy their way out of prison, as the case may turn. These are the chief phenomena that strike a stranger, and it is wonderful to think that this little world, composed of such antagonistic elements, should live so peace- ably on board without diplomatic or consular inter- vention to settle their disputes.
I have been spending a week very agreeably with my friend Mr. Hughes, one of the attachés of the embassy at Constantinople. We made a three days' excursion into the interior of the island on mules, for the purpose of exploring Mount Olympus, which is situated between the two great harbours of Olivieri or Iero and Kalloni. The first part of our route lay across the northern shore of Port Olivieri, where the soil is a rich alluvial deposit, covered with most luxuriant vegetation,—millet, Indian corn, olives, growing intermixed with all manner of rank herbage and rushes, a sign of neglected agriculture and want of drainage. This district has always fever hanging about it in summer. From this place to Ayasso the road ascends gradually, winding along ravines. The variety of trees in these glades forms an agreeable contrast to the district round Mytilene, where the ohve-tree fatigiies the eye from the monotony of its foliage. We halted on our way at a most picturesque spot called Carinæ,—a kind of natural amphitheatre with a large square tank, through which flowed the most abundant and limpid water: all round were giant plane-trees, with trunks ​twisted into a thousand fantastic forms. Here we sat for a while, and dipped our crusts in the fountain, and thought what a blessed thing it was that this place was far beyond the reach of cockneys, and that its silence was never profaned by the sound of champagne-corks and the din of knives and forks rattling against the sides of the pigeon-pie of European pic-nics.
We arrived at Ayasso just after sunset. It is a large Greek village, planted in a hollow, with hills all round. The streets are narrow, precipitous, dark, with a gutter of very black mud in the middle, and a small causeway for foot-passengers on each side. Overhanging wooden houses nod at each other across the way, and intercept all the blue sky except a narrow strip. Hence, the place has something of the character of a European town in the Middle Ages, only without the rich carving on the wood- work. We asked for the konak, or official residence of the Aga, and after mounting a narrow stair- case, the steps of which were covered with the slippers of his retainers, entered the presence- chamber of that great functionary. The village Aga is a sort of reduced copy of the great Pasha of his island, and his konak is a rude imitation of the konak of the capital. The salle de réception is a large square room with no furniture in it; chairs and tables are Frank innovations, only to be met with in towns like Mytilene. Along one side rims a divan, above which the whole wall is full of windows. In the corner of this divan sat the Aga, a keen, shrewd, good-looking man, of about fifty, with a ​very good address, talking Greek to those who could not speak Turkish. I presented the Pasha's letter, which he read three times with profound attention; he then sent for the Greek primates of the village, who are to him what the aldermen are to the Lord Mayor, and for the fourth time he read the mandate, explaining its purport in Greek,—how the Pasha had ordered the primates to give the Consoles Bey and his friend from the Embassy every possible attention; how it was the duty of the whole village of Ayasso, collectively and individually, to devote themselves to our service during our stay. Then we were billeted for the night on a Greek, to whom I also had a letter of introduction, and adjourned to his house with the Aga. We found a very clean, neat little room, with the same divan and windows on one side, and wainscot with vast cupboards and closets all round. The sides of the room were ornamented with very quaint paintings, such as the Greek village folk delight in,—flowers, strange animals, and in one compartment a very peculiar view of Constantinople, treated in a symbolical manner, the whole shipping of the Golden Horn being indicated by a single vessel, the Seraglio Point by a cypress-tree, and the rest of the city being represented in an equally abbreviated form.
When we were installed on the divan, with the Aga between us, the Greek primates at the sides of the room, the wife of our host waiting on us, with pipes and coffee, and the cavasses and retainers ranged at a respectful distance near the door, we felt exceedingly happy. The Aga was very agreeable; and ​the Greek lady kept bringing coffee, and Turkish sweetmeats, and large tumblers of water, and slices of water-melon, and grapes, and pipes, to our hearts' content.
Still we wanted something more substantial, and expressed a wish for some supper. After about half an hour of this light skirmishing with water-melons and such things, the main body of the banquet was brought up. A sturdy cock, immolated for the illustrious strangers, appeared on a dish by himself —one leg unsubdued by the stewpan, stood out like a bowsprit,—a fatal sign of toughness; but the traveller who arrives in a Greek village after sunset, without previously announcing his arrival, must not hope to find meat fit to masticate. Then there was macaroni, salt-fish in a semi-cooked state, cheese made of goat's milk, more water-melons, more coffee, more pipes, more sweetmeats. We ate our way very philosophically through all this, more to please our host than ourselves, and then adjourned to two very comfortable beds.
A Greek bed is not such a troublesome, cumbersome thing to prepare as a European bed. The lady of the house simply opens a cupboard, takes out a mattress, a pair of sheets, and two yourgans or quilts, which she lays on a scrupulously clean floor. There is the bed all ready. The room needs no other preparations; for jugs and basins, such as we use, are unknown. Neither of these articles, or even a tooth-brush, is to be got for love or money in the town of Mytilene, though it has a direct trade with Europe.
​Next morning we got up very early, and started in a large party to ascend Mount Olympus, which is the highest point in the island, and according to the Admiralty chart, is 3,080 feet above the level of the sea. We were escorted by the Aga, the primates, our host, and a whole heap of attendants on foot. One man carried the Aga's umbrella to keep the sun off, another his gun, another his pipe; and the whole procession, as it wound up the steep mountain-path, reminded me of an Assyrian frieze, with a king or satrap, and all his followers in single file.
The scenery in ascending this mountain is most beautiful. We passed through endless glades of chestnuts and walnuts, the vegetation becoming gradually more scanty as we approached the summit, which is a sharp ridge of white marble. The ascent from Ayasso occupied about an hour and a half. The view from the top of Mount Olympus is very fine; half of the island, stretched out like a map at our feet, Scio and other islands in the distance, and a magnificent line of headlands and bays marking the opposite coast of Asia Minor. On a very clear day Athos can be seen from this mountain.
On our way down we stopped to breakfast in a charming sort of kiosk. It was the first time that I had ever seen a regular Oriental banquet. The lamb roasted whole by a fire in the open air, the vast plane-tree under which we reclined, with grapes hanging from every branch, the layer of aromatic herbs which formed the table-cloth under the lamb, were all refreshing novelties to senses blunted by civilization. We had knives and ​forks, but the Aga ate with his fingers. Carving there was none; each man made a scaro into the lamb wherever he thought proper; and, looking at the question with English eyes, I certainly felt that this mode of eating produced a great waste of the raw material. But it was all Homeric, and the air was so fresh, and the herbs so aromatic, that much in the manner of feeding passed unobserved, which would not be pleasant to look at in a dining-room. Then we had wine of the place, which seemed to us, in such an atmosphere, quite as good as the best Bordeaux, and abundance of caviare and water-melons and grapes. The Greeks ate their breakfast at a separate table; the day being one of their fasts, their meal consisted entirely of caviare and fruit. After a certain number of pipes, we got under weigh again, and taking leave of our hospitable friends till the evening, started in a new direction to see a place called Pyrrha, on the eastern shore of Port Kalloni, the site of one of the ancient cities of Lesbos, where the Greeks told us we should find Θαύματα, "wonders." Pliny mentions that this town was swallowed up by the sea. Strabo speaks of it as destroyed, all but the προάστειον or suburb, which was still inhabited in his time.$^{23}$ Specimens of its ancient copper coinage are still extant. The modern name and other circumstances fix its site at the entrance of a small bay. The position is marked as Pyrrha in the Admiralty chart. No. 1654, but not in the larger chart, No. 1664. Our road lay across the neck of land which separates Port Iero or Olivieri from Port Kalloni, and was the roughest I ​ever travelled on; but Mytilene mules are capable of crawling up any path where a man can climb without requiring the assistance of his hands. After passing through some very picturesque well-wooded ravines near Ayasso, we came to very high ground covered with a forest of the pitch-pine, which produces a good deal of pitch every year. The average quantity of this article exported from the whole island is about 330 tons. The fallow deer runs wild in these forests.
After passing through this forest, we came upon the vast and silent harbour of Kalloni, which reposes like an inland lake within an amphitheatre of mountains, and with hardly a sail to enliven its surface. This port is entered by a narrow strait called in antiquity the Euripus of Pyrrha.
On arriving at our destination, we found that the Thaumata did not amount to very much, though there was enough to indicate the site of an ancient city. Massive foundations running into the sea are probably the remains of an ancient mole to protect the harbour. On a rocky hill overlooking the shore are steps and seats cut in the rock, a sure sign that the Greeks have been there. Here then was probably an acropolis with temples.$^{38}$ On the shore of the Gulf of Kalloni, at the distance of three-quarters of an hour to the S.E. of Pyrrha, is a place which still retains the Hellenic name of Temenos. Here are ancient foundations; the ground is strewn with fragments of red pottery. We returned in the evening to Ayasso, and home again in the morning, having taken an affectionate ​leave of our hosts. The Greeks will not accept money for this sort of hospitality, but their servants and children do not object to a little bakshish; so the expense of board and lodging comes to about the same as at an inn.