O Turk! insatiable in
destruction, who breaks down, but never restores, what a picture of
desolation was here! Three centuries had passed away since by treachery
the place was won, and from that hour the neglected harbour had silted
up and ceased to be; the stones of palaces rested where they fell; the
filth of ages sweltered among these blood-sodden ruins; and the proverb
seemed fulfilled, "The grass never grows on the foot-print of the Turk."
I never saw so fearful an example of ruin.
Although the town was in this hideous state, the fortifications were in
very tolerable repair, and had guns been mounted an enemy would quickly
have acknowledged their formidable importance. Time appeared to be
almost harmless in attacks against these vast piles of solid masonry.
The parapets in the angles of the embrasures were twenty-five and
twenty-seven feet in thickness. From these we looked down forty-five and
fifty feet into the ditch beneath. As we walked round the ramparts and
various bastions we remarked the enormous strength of the commanding
cavaliers to which I alluded from the outside appearance of the forts.
There were also vast subterranean works, store-houses, magazines,
cannon-foundries, and all the appliances of a first-class fortified town
and arsenal; but these were of course empty, and with the exception of a
small chamber near the water-gate, which contained a number of rusty
helmets and breastplates, there was no object of interest beyond the
actual plan of the defences.
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