I had here an instance of the fickleness and instability of that which, in the world’s opinion, constitutes nobility. For when, on noticing some young women, whose persons had an air of better breeding than the rest, I inquired whether they belonged to some high family, I was told that they were descended from great Bulgarian princes, and, in some cases, even from royal ancestors, but were now married to herdsmen and shepherds. So little value is attached to high birth in the Turkish realm. I saw also, in other places, descendants of the imperial families of the Cantacuzeni[104] and Palæologi, whose position among the Turks was lower than that of Dionysius at Corinth. For the Turks do not measure even their own people by any other rule than that of personal merit. The only exception is the house of Othman; in this case, and in this case only, does birth confer distinction. It is supposed that the Bulgarians,[105] at a time when many tribes were migrating of their own accord or under compulsion, left the Scythian river Volga to settle here, and that they are called Bulgarians (an equivalent for Volgarians) from that river. They established themselves on the Balkan range, between Sophia and Philippopolis, in a position of great natural strength, and here they long defied the power of the Greek Emperors. When Baldwin[106] the elder, Count of Flanders, gained possession of the imperial throne, they took him prisoner in a skirmish, and put him to death. They were not able to withstand the power of the Turks, who conquered them, and subjected them to their heavy yoke. They use the language of the Illyrians, as do the Servians and Rascians.[107] In order to descend to the level country in front of Philippopolis it is necessary to cross the mountain by a very rough pass. This pass the Turks call ‘Capi Dervent’[108]—that is to say, The Narrow Gate. On this plain the traveller soon meets with the Hebrus, which rises at no great distance in Mount Rhodope. Before we had crossed the pass I mentioned above, we had a good view of the summit of Rhodope, which stood out cold and clear with its snowy covering. The inhabitants, if I am not mistaken, call the mountain Rulla. From it, as Pliny tells us, flows the Hebrus, a fact generally known from the couplet of Ovid:— ‘Quâ patet umbrosum Rhodope glacialis ad Hæmum, Et sacer amissas exigit Hebrus aquas.’ In this passage the poet seems to refer to the river’s want of depth and its scant supply of water; for though a great and famous stream, it is full of shallows. I remember, on my return, crossing the Hebrus by a ford close to Philippopolis, in order to reach an island, where we slept under canvas. But the river rose during the night, and we had great difficulty next day in recrossing and regaining our road.