Magnesia [Manisa]. Thursday 6th Dearest Mother. Thus far my travels - I will now begin to tell you how I have fared. I went to the station on Tuesday morning and asked to see M. Gaudin, the Director of the line to whom Mr Cumberbatch had written about me. I found a most agreeable Frenchman with whom I arranged an intinerary - mine had been altered at the advice of Mr C. - and was started off in a carriage reserved for me to Soma, the end of a branch line from whence I was to see Pergamos [Bergama (Pergamum)]. It took me all day to get there - Turkish trains are slower than Italian and they have this further disadvantage that they only run about 3 times a week, which complicates arrangements. I went up the Hermus [Gediz] valley to this place and then branched off to the north, through very pretty country wide cultivated valleys and low hills which I had time to observe as I passed. I went by the place that was Thyateira - Ak Hissar [Akhisar (Thyatira)] - a charming town set in gardens. At Soma I was welcomed by a very affable station master, Greek but speaking French, with whom I lodged. Luxury is the only proper description of my entertaining there! He had a very nice old wife and a grandson who was 2, a darling. We were joined at dinner by a Greek doctor who also spoke French and in this odd company I spent the evening. On Wed. I started at 5.30 driving in a carriage M. Gaudin had ordered for me and got to Pergamos at 10, a delightful drive through a country full of fruit trees in flower. At Pergamos I was again made welcome by a Greek, M. Sophianos, who is something to do with the French line, and after giving me a cup of tea, he set me on my way to the Acropolis, showing me some wonderful big Roman baths as we went. It's an extraordinary place, the Acropolis, set up on a high hill from whence one sees the country for miles and the sea. It has all been very well excavated by the Germans. M. Sophianos showed me himself last year's work, an agora, and took me into the museum of which the chief treasure is a marble tablet on which are inscribed the laws of the market - priceless, they say, for the history of Greek towns. I had got permission from the Turkish director to photograph by saying I knew Dörpfeld and was generally to be trusted in the matter of not selling photographs. When M. Sophianos left me - he was busy with the marriage of a servant in his house - I walked up to the top of the hill by a paved road which was the road of the Attalid Kings and rutted by their carriage wheels. It passes through 2 lines of walls. When I got to the top I lunched - my dragoman was with me by the way - at the house of the Turkish guardian who also gave me coffee and then with the aid of a capital little German guide book which I had bought from the director, I went all over the Acropolis and examined temples and palaces and theatres and the great altar of which the friezes are at Berlin. Nothing is perfect, but there are foundations and big bits of walls of fine Greek building and the highest narrowest theatre I have ever seen, set in the hill side. It was a lovely bright day and I photographed and was very happy. By the time I had done it was 2 o'clock, so I made my way down and went through the town to see various mosques and things - it's extremely picturesque and I believe prosperous; I was delighted to see a great deal of tanning going on though I'm afraid it's not for parchment. Still it seemed suitable. Then I went to the house of M. Sophianos and drank tea with his wife and mother in law - Father is warmly invited to come and stay by the bye! - and at 3 I started off on my drive back to Soma which I reached soon after 7. The way was made more beautiful by a sunset quite as gorgeous as any king could want - even an Attalid. I left Soma this morning at 7 and got in at 11, but alas! it's pouring and I'm wondering whether I shall be able to see the Niobe or whether she will be too tearful. I am staying at the American Mission with the Armenian who lives here. He has a wife and 5 of the nastiest little children you ever saw. They all come from Bitlis where they were nearly massacred by the Turks - I should massacre one or two of the children if I stayed here long enough. The town is perfectly charming; I am going out to look at some Seljuk mosques, rain or no rain. It lies on the side of a steep hill and is infinitely picturesque with gardens and cypresses everywhere. My room is completely furnished with Bibles, hymn books, texts, a portrait of a dead Armenian lying on his bed in dress clothes - everything except my bed which is entirely absent!
Later. After a rather scrabbly lunch eaten with all the children sprawling over the table - they are brick red in colour and have tight rings of black hair and beady eyes - I walked out with my host and hostess in the rain and saw some charming mosques built in the great Seljuk and Osmanli times, with schools and khans and even a lunatic asylum attached. The lunatics didn't seem much madder than other Turks, at least those I saw, but there were grated cells behind where the worst were shut up and I expect they have an uneven time of it, poor things. About 3 it cleared and I took a carriage and drove out to see the Niobe. She sits right up above the plain, carved in the face of a high rock and, above her and all round, the rock cut remains of a very very early city, going back to the roots of Greek tradition - the throne of Pelops and the tomb of Tantalus. One holds one's breath when one finds oneself looking at a thing that was a Schenswürdigkeit in the time of Homeric poems. She looks so old - her face indistinguishable, her body leaning forward over her knees - marred as she is I think she is still the most impressive figure I have seen since the Sphinx. On my way home I went to see some Greeks called Sarandides - I'm going to stay with old Sarandides tomorrow, he lives at Alasheir [Alasehir (Philadelphia)]. They were very anxious I should send for my things and come and spend the night with them, but I refused, with great difficulty, fearing to hurt the feelings of the Gagossians, my hosts. I hope I was right. So I returned to an equally scrabbly dinner and now they've put a mattress in my room with some sheets on it and I'm going to bed.

Fri. 7. [March 7 1902] Fortunately it was fine and I was able to photograph before starting. The house in which the Gagossians live is the Haramlik, women's quarter, of the Great Kara Osmanli palace, Princes of Karamania they called themselves and the story goes that their wealth was so great that they themselves could not number it. They did evil in the sight of the Lord and their rule was put to an end by the Sultan - who does little better himself - about 100 years ago when all the Beys of these parts, who were practically independent princes, were suppressed. One of the Kara Osmanli still lives in Magnesia [Manisa] but he has no sons and his name dies with him. The main part of the house is a beautiful place with deep balconies and fountains and lovely woodwork, all empty and falling into decay. My train left at 9.30. In it I found Mr Hatton, an employé of the line whom M. Gaudin had insisted on sending with me. He's a dear old thing, an English man born, the son of a butcher, without an h to his name, but endlessly cheerful and obliging and a capital travelling companion. His wife, moreover, has provided him with a large basket of delicacies which we share. He's as pleased as a child to be out on a jaunt and he knows a good deal about the country having been here well on to 40 years. We journeyed merrily to Sardis which we reached at 11. We had till 5 to spend there so that we saw all the sights comfortably. Now the Acropolis of Sardis is a tall hill of mud - all the foothills of the Tmolus range are clay and earth and the rains wash them down year by year so that very little of the old hill remains. Of Lydian ruins there are none at all, what one goes out to see is the site and that is of the deepest interest. I was delighted that I had Herodotus so fresh in my mind: there was the Pactolus flowing round the East side of the Acropolis and the great plain on the North on which the battle between Croesus and Cyrus was fought - the Hermus [Gediz] runs through it near Sardis and further north, as Herodotus says, the Hyllos - and right in the middle of the plain, the most marked feature of the landscape, the great Lydian necropolis, a mass of mounds, the largest of all being that tomb of Alyattes which Herodotus describes. It has been opened recently but little was found as it had been rifled before. The Turks call the place Bin Tepe, the 1000 Hills: behind it is a little lake called Marmara Geul [Marmara Gölü]. I did not go out to it as it is a mile or two on the other side of the station, but we'll take Uncle Tom there some day. On the banks of the Pactolus stand 2 beautiful Ionic columns, the remains of the Temple of CyBelle which was knocked down by an earthquake. They are however Greek, much later than Croesus. We climbed up to the Acropolis by the N and E, a long stiff climb. There is a tiny village of Yaruks - nomads formerly before the Turks made them settle - otherwise it is all uninhabited. The hill is still crowned with Byzantine walls in places; most of them have fallen with the washing down of the earth and those that stand are half undermined and overhang the steep mud precipices in a most extraordinary way. We entered on the E. the side, I take it, up which a Median soldier climbed, for it "looks towards Mt Tmolus" as Herodotus says. Mt Tmolus was white with snow and glistening in the sun. There is a little grassy plateau on the E side of the Acropolis, all red with anemones it was, but the W end has been washed away to a knife edge, quite precipitous to the N and sloping steeply down to the débris of mud to the S. On the extreme W point is a bastion of the Byzantine fort which stands by a miracle of balance for the earth beneath it is half washed away - it won't stand long I fear. These walls are interesting because they are built up of bits of columns and capitals and marbles coming from the old Greek work. At the foot of the hill, but much destroyed by the masses of earth which have been washed down onto them, are the Roman theatre, stadium and gymnasium and the ruins of a big Byzantine church. Sardis was finally destroyed by Timur about 1400 and has been uninhabited ever since. Still, it's a madly interesting place. I thought as I looked at the earth precipices that the Median soldier and that Cretan who climbed up in the siege of Antiochus must have had a difficult business step cutting - it's worse than snow for it lies steeper. We got back to the station hot and tired and happy and had time to make ourselves an excellent tea and to eat it with appetite before the train came. Mr Hatton has, of course, all the resources of the railway at his command, so we are able to commandeer hot water wherever we want. We joined M. Sarandides in the train and journeyed together to Alasheir [Alasehir (Philadelphia)], which is Philadelphia which we reached at 7. Then he carried me off to his house where I was received by his wife, a very big handsome Greek, too fat as they all are, his daughter who is a pretty little person, and another smiling female, a cousin of sorts. None but the daughter spoke French - M. Sarandides speaks French pretty well. This is the manner of Greek entertainment: I was shown into the invariable salon leading out of the hall through glass doors, where I sat on the equally invariable brocade sofa and the others sat round on brocade chairs set round the wall, while I was offered jam (eaten in spoonfuls) coffee, water and liqueurs. Presently M.S. asked me what I wd like to do. I said I'ld like to wash and was accordingly taken upstairs to a very comfortable little bedroom where I was left to wash and change. I came down and we sat in a circle again and eat more jam while I made conversation Ö l'usage des Grecs - the amount of times we said that the Spring was the pleasantest season of the year and the Turks robbers would surprise you. Towards 9 M.S. said wd I tell him quite frankly what time I was accustomed to dine? I replied with decision Now, and we went off to the dining room, another glass doored room opening out of the hall, where we eat an enormous dinner of many courses, of each of which I was obliged to partake. Now however came a diversion for it was the last days of the Greek Carnaval [sic] and accordingly during the evening we were beguiled by streams of masks who came in and dressed in every sort of costume and solemnly played various stringed instruments and danced thereto, not very well, but as they were Turkish dances I was amused to see. It was past 11 before they had all gone and then I made bold to go to bed.

Sat 8. [8 March 1902] It was rather a gray [sic] day but not disagreeable, so directly after breakfast Mr Hatton (who had appeared early) M. Sarandides and I went out to see the sights. Philadelphia was not a very old town - it was founded by the Attalid kings of Pergamos [Bergama (Pergamum)]. We walked up to what was the Acropolis and saw the emplacement of stadium and theatre, but all the stones have been carried away. It was an important Byzantine town and the Byzantine walls are still standing - the modern town much shrivelled within them. The storks have just arrived and were standing on their nests on top of all the walls. We then went up towards the hills, beautiful snow covered hills, by a lovely reach of valley full of olive trees and Judas trees just come into flower, to a great wall which was built by Timur, mostly out of Christian martyrs - a nasty trick. The wall is falling to bits and you can see big lengths of bone in it. Beyond, after scrambling about the fields a good deal, we came to some hot springs with a Bade Anstalt Ö la Turc - and here M. Sarandides had sent his carriage to meet us - you see he's no end of a swell! - and we drove back into the town to the ruins of an enormous Byzantine church with bits of fresco on it. From here we walked through the Bazaars - it was market day and most amusing. Mr Hatton told me after that old Sarandides was in the 7th heaven at having a European to stay - he's easily pleased! - and that the walk through the bazaar was in order to show his fellow citizens what for a consuless was stopping with him! I'm glad he liked it, I'm sure, for he took a lot of trouble and gave me the most enormous lunch I ever eat. At 1.30 Mr Hatton and I left for Inai, a small station up in the hills. It's very comic travelling for I'm introduced to all the station masters as I pass and all the railway officials and some of them get in and travel a little way with us. We're about 2500 ft up here; the country on the plateau is almost unpopulated and quite uncultivated - nothing grows but little oak trees and the prickly wild oak scrub. At Inai I have been lodged in a sleeping carriage which was brought up for me - most luxuriously lodged. We eat our meals in the Station Master's house - an unhappy little man he is, a Maltese, who lost a better post on the railway 3 years ago by getting across a Turkish official, and his wife a year ago. His delicate sad little sister in law lives with him. However they cheered up enough in the evening to produce a phonograph, with which we were entertained as long as I cd stand it.

Sun 9. [9 March 1902] Many happy returns of the day to Elsa. I hope the pots have arrived and that she has taken one of the two big ones for her sister. We were not so happy today for it was horrible weather. All the morning it rained in torrents. I sat in my train and wrote my diary and read. About 12 it lifted a little and we lunched hurriedly and started off across the country to Blaundos about which I know nothing but what I have seen today. We walked for an hour and more over stretching upland with nothing on it but oak scrub till we came to a wonderful acropolis, all walled with fine Greek walls and a great gateway - 200 years BC, I hazard a wide conjecture from the style of building. Inside, ruins of 2 temples most elaborately carved and a pan de mur that looked like some big kind of palace. The rock on which it is built stands up magnificently. And all round and everywhere in the rocks are endless tombs - much older than the ruins, Phrygian, say the learned. Great double and triple chambers cut back into the rock with loculi all round and arched doorways in the solid rock. Now nothing, but a little Yuruk village and some flocks on the bare hills. It didn't rain much while we were out and I was delighted to have croqueted my sight. Everywhere in this country you come on ruins like this, great cities of the Greek times where now there is empty hillside. I can't think they can go much further inland. I am now 3 or 4 hours from where the French railway joins the Konia [Konya (Iconium)] line, Father will be interested to hear. I should like to go on to their terminus, Afium Kara Hissar [Afyon (Afyonkarahisar)], but that must be for another time. Some day I shall come and travel here with tents, but then I will speak Turkish, which will not be difficult and I will take only a couple of Turkish servants with me. The evening was spent with the phonograph - "What to do?" says the station master in his halting English.

Monday 10th. [10 March 1902] Smyrna [Izmir]. Here I am again after a 12 hours' journey. It was however very amusing for in the train I found Mr Herbert Whittall with his daughter and niece coming down from a shooting expedition in the mountains. Now the Whittalls are the people of these parts and these particular ones are very nice delightful people and we made great friends during our 12 hours together - Mr Hatton brought us acquaint. So the upshot of it is that I am going to stay with them for a night tomorrow - they live one station off at a village called Burnabat [Bornova]! The Whittall girl was at Cheltenham where she met the Wrightsons and has stayed with them. I got Elsa's letter here and am much distressed to hear of Maurice's accident. I hope I shall hear presently how it happened and how he is, poor darling. I wonder if it was the new horse! I think I shall leave for Beyrout [Beyrouth (Beirut)] on Saturday or Monday. I shall have to go to Malcajik for a night or two before I go and I want if possible to go to a place near here where the Germans are excavating. M. Gaudin will arrange it for me. However I shall see about that tomorrow. This Mr Whittall is the uncle of the young man I met at Malcajik. There is an enormous colony of them. The girl is coming in to Smyrna tomorrow to fetch me.
My love and sympathy to Maurice. I am still being much entertained, as you see! and really this letter must not be allowed to grow any longer. Ever your affectionate daughter Gertrude.