THE GOLDEN GATE (_continued_)
The Golden Gate was from time to time thrown open for other purposes
than to admit a conqueror. Persons of note who sought audience of the
Emperor have passed in through it, and their mission was in the service
of another victor, they came in the name of Him who overcame Death.
Among these was Pope Constantine, who came to confer with that Justinian
II whose acquaintance we made some chapters back. Another Emperor whose
history is familiar to our travellers, Basil II, admitted the Legate of
Pope Hadrian into the city underneath the same portals.
And yet another solemn procession moves in at the Gates while we watch.
No blare of trumpet, no martial sound of clashing arms, no steady,
resolute footsteps, scurry of horses or the grinding noise of chariot
wheels marks the progress of this host of shadows. It moves slowly, to
the rhythm of a solemn chant that rises into a more rapturous cadence
from time to time; moves through the crowds of kneeling figures with
bared heads and eyes lowered to the ground that they may not see the
glory of that which is passing, for is it not the sacred Icon, the Icon
of Christ brought from Edessa to find Sanctuary in the Church of St.
Sophia?
Christianity owes much to the personality of the first Eastern Emperors
to Constantine, the first Augustus to be baptized into that faith, and
again to Theodosius I, the ardent champion of the Cross.
Until the reign of this great Emperor the ancient faith of Rome still
lived on, both in that city and in the provinces. An altar to victory
accompanied the Roman legions in the field, the higher officers of State
in many cases laid claim to the title of pontifex and presided over the
old religious rites while the majority of the Roman Senate still adhered
to the polytheistic tenets of the old faith. The Emperor Gratian, fired
by the zeal of Ambrose, banished once and for all the Altar of Victory
from the Roman Senate. This led to a heated controversy, which was
decided by Theodosius. Returning to Rome "with all his blushing honours
thick upon him," the Emperor proposed at a full meeting of the Senate
the momentous question: Shall the worship of Jupiter or that of Christ
be the religion of the Romans?
In the Roman republic of those days it was not expedient to gainsay a
victorious Emperor, so by a majority of the Senate Jupiter was condemned
and degraded. Thus when we witnessed the triumphal entry of Theodosius
the Great into Constantinople by the Golden Gate, the gods of ancient
Rome, unseen by us, were fastened to his chariot wheels.
Theodosius was first of all a soldier, and though born of Christian
parents he did not embrace the Faith until towards the end of the first
year of his reign, when a severe illness carried conviction to the
Imperial heart. He received the sacrament of baptism before he again
took the field against the Goths, at the hands of Acholius, the Orthodox
Bishop of Thessalonica.
Once convinced of the beauty of the Faith, and sure of the unfailing aid
the Church affords, Theodosius acted as a soldier and a convert usually
does. No room for the doubts and fears of others, he had found the sure
haven of his soul, and all his people must needs be categorically
instructed in the right way. On ascending from the holy font he issued
an edict which must be given word for word. "It is our pleasure that all
the nations which are governed by our clemency and moderation should
steadfastly adhere to the religion which was taught by St. Peter to the
Romans, which faithful tradition has preserved; and which is now
professed by the Pontiff Damarcus and by Peter, Bishop of Alexandria, a
man of apostolic holiness. According to the discipline of the Apostles
and the Doctrine of the Gospel, let us believe the sole Deity of the
Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, under an equal Majesty and a pious
Trinity. We authorize the followers of this doctrine to assume the title
of Catholic Christians, and as we judge that all others are extravagant
madmen, we brand them with the infamous name of Heretics, and declare
that their conventicles shall no longer usurp the respectable
appellation of Churches. Besides the condemnation of Divine Justice,
they must expect to suffer the severe penalties, which our authority,
guided by heavenly wisdom, shall think proper to inflict upon them." So
we find little room in Byzantium for the Nonconformist conscience, or,
indeed, for any other save that of the ruler himself.
Like a soldier Theodosius adhered to his opinions, and all argument from
other sides failed to impress him. Once only was he found to show the
slightest inclination to listen to another version of the Christian
creed. He expressed a wish to converse with the pious and learned
Eunomius, who lived a retired life near Constantinople. The prayers of
the Empress Flaccilla prevented this dangerous and mistaken attempt even
to understand the position of others, and further confirmation in his
orthodoxy came about in a dramatic manner.
Theodosius and his son Arcadius, upon whom the title of Augustus had
lately been bestowed, were seated side by side upon a stately throne to
receive the homage of their subjects. Amphilochius, Bishop of Iconium,
approached the throne and rendered due homage to Theodosius. He then
turned and addressed Arcadius in the patronizing tones some dignitaries
of the Church still use towards plebeian children. This insolent
behaviour provoked the monarch, and he gave orders to eject the priest.
While the guards were executing them, the Bishop turned in the doorway
and exclaimed in a loud voice, "Such is the treatment, O Emperor! which
the King of Heaven has prepared for those impious men who affect to
worship the Father but refuse to acknowledge the equal majesty of His
Divine Son." This convincing logic failed not of its effect, the
orthodoxy of Theodosius was safe against all further argument, and in no
other case was he tempted into the uncertain and unsettling paths of
philosophical speculation.
In matters religious Constantinople may perhaps be said to lead the
controversial way. It was for forty years, from 340 to 380, the centre
of Arianism, and is said to have admitted all manner of strange
doctrines from every province of the Empire--as was to be expected
among a population more prone to disputations than to serious thought or
that activity which takes religion as a staff to guide its daily task
and not as a subject for polemic exercise.
Let us return to a haunt familiar to the reader--the Atrium, down by the
Sea of Marmora, and listen, without venturing an opinion, to what the
men of the fourth century had to say upon an all-important subject. They
were, or the majority of them would probably profess to be, Arians, and
for many reasons, not alone dogmatic, would have closed their ears to
the echoes that came to them of a purer doctrine taught at Rome and
Alexandria. Yet they must have felt some apprehensions, for among them
in their own city blossomed that rarest of all fair flowers, a perfect
friendship between two men of the same way of thinking. Basil and
Gregory, both natives of Cappadocia, were of one heart and mind in their
endeavours at reform. They had pursued their studies together at Athens,
together had retired into the solitude of the desert of Pontus, and
together they set out upon their mission to Constantinople. Truly a
lovely sight, and altogether beautiful, this friendship of two earnest
men. No doubt the heads of those that walked the Atrium of Justinian the
Great wagged as they reflected that there must be great goodness in a
right so blessed.
But a cold vapour passed over this entrancing vision--Basil was exalted
to the Archiepiscopal throne of Cæsarea, and by way of favour to his
friend selected him as Bishop of Sasima, of all the fifty bishoprics in
his extensive province, the most desolate--sans water, sans verdure,
sans everything that one could wish a friend.
Some years later Gregory returned to Constantinople to try for further
preferment, and in the meantime started a tabernacle of his own, and
after much adversity attained his object when Theodosius entered the
city at the close of a successful campaign in November 380. Gregory had
gained many adherents, and was eventually elevated to the Eastern See by
the Orthodox Emperor. In spite of the unyielding orthodoxy which
Theodosius knew how to enforce, the Arians did not acquiesce without a
protest, and Gregory confessed pathetically that on the day of his
installation the capital of the East wore the appearance of a city taken
by storm at the hands of a Barbarian conqueror. No doubt the polemics
that raged around the question of the Trinity exasperated the soldier
Theodosius, he therefore determined to have the matter settled
definitely, and to that end convened a synod of one hundred and fifty
bishops to complete the theological system established in the Council of
Nicæa. No doubt this council arrived at some conclusion that satisfied
the Emperor, so that at least one man's mind was set at rest on a vexed
question. Many different Christian sects had sprung up before Theodosius
began to issue edicts, and that many of them returned to obscurity is a
reason for profound gratitude, for the world has on more than one
occasion proved too small for rival creeds. Still it is sad to reflect
that the office of Inquisitor in matters of religion was first
instituted by one of the greatest of the Eastern Emperors.
No doubt Theodosius was convinced that he had said the last word on
religious controversy, that being very sure himself his people would be
equally so. This, however, turned out to be rather too hopeful a view of
the matter, for synods, conferences and councils followed one after
another, leading to endless controversy and to no more gratifying result
than a more marked divergence of opinions.
Behind these walls of Constantinople the religious life of the people
showed uncommon vigour, though it may be doubted whether the general
effect was one of holiness. Strong men appear upon the scene and take an
active part provoking strong passions much at variance with the peaceful
precepts of the Christian creed, though quite in keeping with the
prophecy of Him who asserted that He came to bring "not Peace but a
Sword." Out of this chaos of ideas and ideals rises one form after
another, to stand out before his contemporaries in bolder outline than
historical perspective warrants. Of these one may be singled out as
truly great, though it is perhaps due to his personality more than to
the enduring good he did that he appeals to readers of the present day.
He came from Antioch with a great reputation as a preacher, so great
that people called him the Golden Mouth--St. John Chrysostom. His
induction to the Eastern See was carried into effect by somewhat unusual
means. Eutropius, the prime minister of Arcadius the young Emperor, had
heard and admired the sermons of John Chrysostom when on a journey in
the East. Fearing that the faithful of Antioch might be unwilling to
resign their favourite preacher, the minister sent a private order to
the Governor of Syria, and the divine was transported with great speed
and secrecy to Constantinople. The new archbishop did not fail to make
his influence felt at once, and his sermons gave rise to factions, some
in his favour, some against him, all united to make the most of an
excuse for religious controversy. As has often happened since, though on
a less magnificent scale, the ladies of the parish took very ardent
interest in the dispute. Some there were who approved of all he said
and did, others violently condemned him and all his works. These ladies
were for the most part of mature age, and therefore well qualified to
judge, and many of them were extremely wealthy, which of course gave
weight to their opinions.
Chrysostom was of choleric temperament and unsocial habits, the first
led him to express disapproval in scarcely measured terms, the second
prevented him from finding out what was going forward in those places
where he had been insisting on reform. So it came about that an
ecclesiastical conspiracy formed against him was all unknown to him
until he found that one Theophilus, Archbishop of Alexandria, had
arrived by invitation of the Empress, together with a number of
independent bishops, to secure a majority at the synod. Theophilus had
taken the further precaution of bringing with him a strong escort of
Egyptian mariners to serve as practical warriors in the Church Militant
and keep the refractory populace in order. The synod brought various
charges against Chrysostom, who refused to attend the meetings, so in
default this august body condemned the Archbishop for contumacious
disobedience and sentenced him to be deposed. Chrysostom was hurried out
of the city to a place of banishment near the entrance of the Black
Sea, but before two days had passed he was recalled, his faithful flock
rose with unanimous and irresistible fury, the promiscuous crowd of
monks and Egyptian mariners were slaughtered without mercy in the
streets of the city, the waves of sedition roared and seethed round the
palace gates, and an earthquake came just in time to be interpreted as
the voice of Heaven, so the Empress Eudoxia had to implore Arcadius to
reinstate the favourite preacher. Chrysostom returned in triumph down
the Bosphorus and into the Golden Horn, through lanes of shipping that
vied with the houses ashore in the splendour of their illuminations.
From the landing-stage to the Cathedral thousands of his faithful flock
escorted him with frenzied exclamations. But St. John (the Golden Mouth)
was no courtier, he pursued his course with increased zeal. His sermons
made him yet more popular with the masses, and proved yet more
distasteful to the Court, until one directed in bitterest vein against
the Empress proved his temporal undoing for a second time.
Again he was banished, and this time to the distant ridges of Mount
Taurus. He spent three years of great activity in this retreat, carrying
on a correspondence with the most distant provinces of the Empire. His
enemies, however, were not yet satisfied, and brought about his removal
to the desert of Pityas, but on the way thither in his sixtieth year
St. John Chrysostom died.
Thirty years after, in January 438, the remains of this zealous,
high-spirited priest were transported from their obscure sepulchre to
the royal city. Theodosius II advanced as far as Chalcedon to meet them,
and falling prostrate on the coffin implored in the name of his guilty
parents, Arcadius and Eudoxia, the forgiveness of the injured saint.
The efforts of St. John Chrysostom proved effective during his lifetime
alone. After his death the religious cohesion of a large Empire,
composed of so many races, each with its own peculiar temperament fell
away and the divergence of opinion on matters of dogma became more and
more accentuated.
A peculiar instance of this is afforded by the Armenian Church, and the
Author apologizes to his fellow-travellers for having omitted to point
out the unpretentious cathedral of that community when visiting the
walls by the Sea of Marmora. The Armenians took up the Christian faith
in a most generous spirit during the reign of Constantine. The many
invasions their country suffered under, the constant disorders that
occurred there, as well as the fact that their clergy were generally
ignorant of the Greek tongue, all tended to separate them from their
fellow-believers in Europe. They clung to their doctrine that the
manhood of Christ was created of a divine and incorruptible substance,
and therefore scouted the notion that imputed to the Godhead the
infirmities of the flesh. Their priests were unable to assist at the
Council of Chalcedon, owing to the linguistic difficulty referred to, so
in time they became schismatics, their separation from other communities
dating back as far as 552. For reasons which it is not well to enter
into, the Armenians have not always enjoyed the toleration shown to
other creeds by the Moslem conquerors of the Eastern Empire--gruesome
tales have reached the ears of Europe from time to time, and the less
said on this subject the better, for the enlightened powers that now
rule over the destinies of the Eastern Empire give ample assurance that
those dark days of persecution are past.
Where Christianity has gained hold over the minds of men, it not only
influences their thoughts and actions more than any other motive power,
but it has the result, perhaps quite contrary to the intentions of its
Founder, of crystallizing the national characteristics of the different
races that become subject to its influence. This leads to a definite
expression of national sentiments, aims and ambitions, and so it
happened when Christianity was in the full vigour of youth. Those
communities whose life was lived under a southern sun, in lands where
tradition and history receded into the dim vistas that hide the origin
of all things, lands like Syria and Egypt drifted into a spiritual
nirvana of lazy and contemplative devotion. No wonder then that the
fierce onrush of those who were inflamed by Mahomed's fighting creed met
with no resistance, and Islam is now the faith of those lands of ruin
and golden sand.
The Western nations took to the new creed without any loss of the
fighting qualities of their race; and in fact the preaching of the new
religion seems to have had but little effect upon their methods of
expressing their convictions on any subject, and equally little power to
check ambition. So the Western Church was forced to adopt the strenuous
method of the people under its spiritual sway, aided therein by the
strain of stronger Northern races that had revived the moribund
communities in the immediate neighbourhood of Rome.
Then the direction taken by the Western Church led to absolute power
over the bodies and souls of men. The superstitions grafted on the
doctrines of the Church to enhance the power of its ministers proved a
weapon of irresistible force in the hands of an unscrupulous and
ambitious Pontiff. The warrior kings of warlike nations quailed before
the power of the Head of Western Christendom, and one of Germany's
haughty Emperors crept barefooted through the snow to Canossa, there to
implore the Pontiff's pardon.
This ambition has fired the Western Church through all these ages that
saw the gradual development of Europe, has led to many and most bloody
wars, occasioned revolting crimes, and still acts as an incentive to the
"Kultur Kampf," against which even Bismarck, the Iron Chancellor, did
not battle with unqualified success. As may be supposed, the ambitious
strivings of the Roman See were not directed only against the Western
nations whom Christendom had reached mainly through its agents. It cast
longing glances at the Eastern capital. The Greeks, however, took their
religion in yet another form, approached it in yet another spirit. At
Constantinople the Emperor and the Patriarch lived side by side, and
were busily engaged in checking each other's authority, or offering a
united front against Roman interference. No attempt seems to have been
made on the part of any Archbishop of the Eastern capital to arrogate to
himself temporal power. It was politically impossible, so long as
successors to the throne of Cæsar were to be found among victorious
generals, whenever the scions of the Imperial family showed signs of
weakness. Again the genius of the Greek expressed itself in a different
sense.
The Roman Church laid down its dogmata, and no one was found to cavil at
them, or those that did, until Luther's time, met with a short shrift
and a blazing pyre. The populace of the Eastern Empire, and more
expressly of Constantinople, knew none of this intellectual submission
to ecclesiastical authority, and exercised their keen wits in
disputations, subtle or extravagant, according to individual taste.
Vehement controversies raged constantly around the mysteries of the
Christian Creed, and served at once to sharpen the intellect and obscure
the purity of the Faith. New sects were for ever springing up, some to
be suppressed by edict of an Emperor, or to prolong their precarious
existence under persecution, others to die yet more surely of neglect.
High and low entered into these contests, perhaps not always urged by
the purest motives--the Isaurian Emperors condemned the use of Icons,
and Theodora in sanguinary devotion restored them to the Churches.
Paulicians, who abhorred all images, were introduced from the banks of
the Euphrates into Constantinople and Thrace by Constantine, whom the
worshippers of images surnamed Copronymus, in the middle of the eighth
century. They suffered much persecution from time to time; and again
were encouraged and in fact reinforced by another Emperor, John
Zimisces, who transported a large colony of them to the valleys of Mount
Hæmus. Under good treatment they became arrogant, and being doughty
warriors resented the injuries they frequently received at the hands of
the Eastern clergy. They retired to their native land, and there were
subject to renewed attacks by their Christian brethren of the Eastern
fold, and by any armed and adventurous nation of a different Faith who
happened to pass that way.
Asia too has had experience of a religious war lasting thirty years and
devastating many tracts of fair and fertile country, an example followed
by Europe nearly eight centuries later.
Thus the religious life of Constantine's great city was not without
intense excitement to those who lived within the walls. After the first
eight centuries of the Christian era, the interest somewhat abated, the
degenerate population seemed to have lost its appetite for controversy.
A definite separation from Rome had not been brought about, though it
may be supposed that the Roman Pontiff exercised little direct control
over the religious destinies of the Eastern Empire.
The recital of religious differences, of disputes concerning the
mysteries of any faith make unpleasant reading at any time. But yet such
matters have to be faced if we would restore some of the testimony of
these silent witnesses, the ruined walls of Constantinople. Thus if we
are to read the history their stones record, we cannot overlook the
darker pages, the depth of shadows that offer such contrast to the
brighter passages of the chronicles of this Imperial City.
The Eastern and the Western world were never really in accord on any
subject--the bonds that united them were frail and might snap at the
death of one strong man or the other, who like Constantine had firm hold
of the reins of government. But the Western Empire was no more, and
owing to this and the disorders that ensued in consequence, the Eastern
Empire gained in importance. It at least presented a united front to
outward enemies, so when Charlemagne restored the western Roman Empire,
a rivalry of power seemed imminent--this marked the distance East and
West had travelled on diverging roads and brought about a separation of
the Greek and Latin Churches. The intellectual pride of the Greeks could
not submit to any dictation on the subject of the Christian doctrine
from the See of Rome; Roman ambition would not allow outlying
communities to formulate new doctrines or to revise old ones. In
everything the adherents of the Eastern and Western Churches found
points of disagreement. It needed but a small pretext to bring about a
schism, small at this period of time but great and momentous to those
who struggled through the controversy. A pretext was not long wanting.
About the middle of the ninth century Photius, a layman, captain of the
guards, was promoted by merit and favour to the office of Patriarch of
Constantinople. In ecclesiastical science and in the purity of morals he
was equally well qualified for his high office. But Ignatius, his
predecessor, who had abdicated, had still many obstinate supporters, and
they appealed to Pope Nicholas I, one of the proudest and most ambitious
of the Roman Pontiffs, who welcomed an opportunity of judging and
condemning his rival of the East.
The Greek Patriarch issued triumphant with the aid of the Court, but
fell with his patron, Cæsar Bardas, uncle of Michael III, whereupon
Basil the Macedonian restored Ignatius to his former dignity. Photius
emerged on the death of Ignatius from the monastery which had sheltered
him and was again restored to the dignity of the Patriarchate, to be
again and for ever deprived of office on the death of Basil I. The Roman
See had interfered in favour of Ignatius, and had become unpopular with
all sections of Greek Orthodoxy in consequence. Then followed the dark
and hopeless days of the tenth century, without any attempt at
reconciliation between the Churches. Nothing but unseemly recriminations
ensued, till in 1054 the Papal legates entered Constantinople, having
laid a bill of excommunication against the Patriarch upon the altar of
St. Sophia, and shaking the dust from off their feet returned to Rome.
Negotiations between the two Churches continued at ever-increasing
intervals, and the breach widened by the actions of both sides.
When the Western nations, fired by religious enthusiasm, pressed
eastward in their thousands to attempt the rescue of the Holy Land, they
met with faint support, and even covert opposition from the Eastern
Emperors. And when the Eastern Empire was hard pressed by the old enemy
of the Cross, the Pope refused his aid until urged thereto by one of his
own spiritual vassals, and that, as we have seen, in vain.
From time to time attempts were made at reconciliation, but whether they
were sincere is hard to determine, and certainly does not come within
the province of this book. Suffice it to say, they failed, and now under
the protection of Crescent and Star the Orthodox Greek Church preserves
the even tenor of her way. Author and Artist wonder whether perchance
they should apologize for talking at length on a matter of such vital
interest as the religious controversies between different schools of
Christian thought. They decide not to do so, for to give a fair account
of all the history or of as much of it as one small volume may contain,
the strong note that dominated the lives and motives of so many
generations, all struggling upwards to the Light, must sound above the
universal and jarring discords.
There is yet another feature of the religious life that had its day
behind these sheltering walls, its monastic institutions. The Author has
views on the subject of political economy which he does not intend to
inflict upon his fellow-travellers. Of a truth this is neither a
reasonable time nor an appropriate place for any such controversial
matter. Rather the Author proposes to entrust his patient audience to
the mercy of the Artist, who has a tale to tell and may be some time in
telling it. Thus he leaves his collaborator to think out the next
chapter, for much remains to be told.
Meanwhile the Artist takes us back to those remote, romantic ages when
Christianity was young and even more capable than it is to-day of
arousing fierce passions which led to what the cynics of other ages
regard as mere extravagances. He tells of Anthony, an illiterate youth
who lived in Thebais at the beginning of the fourth century. Of how
Anthony distributed his patrimony, left his kith and kin and began his
monastic penance among the tombs in a ruined tower by the banks of the
Nile. How Anthony then wandered three days' journey into the desert to
eastward of the Nile and fixed his last residence in a lonely spot where
he had found shade and water. From Egypt, that land of mystery, this
novel conception of a Christian's duty spread over all the Christian
world. Anthony's fame went far afield, many disciples followed him, and
ere he died at the advanced age of 105 he was surrounded by many
fellow-anchorites ready to follow in his footsteps.
The people of the Eastern Empire took up the new idea with enthusiasm,
and many monasteries were erected within the walls of Old Byzantium. One
of them has already been mentioned, the monastery of St. George at the
Mangane near Seraglio Point, where for some time the Emperor John
Cantacuzene took up his abode after his abdication. Monasteries and
convents were in fact almost invaluable to party politicians of the
Byzantine Empire. Emperors and Empresses were conveyed to these places
of retreat, with more or less of ceremony according to the judgment
passed on their misdeeds, real or supposed, by the fickle populace.
Royal Princes who might be tempted to usurp the throne were banished to
convenient monasteries, and sometimes deprived of eyesight that they
might realize the vanity of all things. Victorious and ambitious
generals found unsought rest and quietness in the cloister, even
Patriarchs have been known to vanish from sight into the "dim religious
light" that was the material and spiritual attribute of those secluded
haunts. Those fairy islands we saw floating in the placid Sea of Marmora
held many illustrious captives within the walls of its cloisters and
convents. Distant Mount Athos with its thousands of anchorites would
from time to time welcome back a brother who had basked for a short time
in the sunlight of an Emperor's smile.
But through all those ages of monastic life, in all the stories and
legends of pious hermits and anchorites, the Artist misses any one akin
to his own admired friend--Friar Tuck. Greek monks took frequent part in
the disturbances that party politics provoked, but none was found to
expound like him, his doctrine of Christian Socialism with the aid of a
stout quarter-staff.
And of the artistic side of monastic usefulness no trace remains, none
of those beautifully executed illuminations that were the life-work of
so many a skilful limner in the West. The storm that broke over
Constantinople swept all this away, and nothing is left but a faint
record of the site of some ancient hermitage.
Thus on our way to the Marble Tower and not far from where we stand
stood a monastery dedicated to St. Diomed, and hereby hangs a tale full
as romantic as any yet recorded.
One evening in the middle of the ninth century a youth, strong and
active, but weary and travel-stained, approached the Golden Gate from
over the heights beyond the walls. He entered the city, but not by the
Golden Gate that we are now so well acquainted with, he went round a
little to the north, where there is another opening in the walls, a sort
of "tradesmen's entrance," for to none but Emperors or visitors of the
highest rank was the Golden Gate thrown open. The wanderer was none of
these, so by the failing light he entered what is now Yedi Koulé
Kapoussi. He had neither friends nor money, so tired out lay down to
sleep on the steps of the Church of St. Diomed. A kindly monk extended
the hospitality of the monastery to him, and so refreshed he went his
way in search of fortune. His good luck took him to a cousin, a namesake
of the Emperor Theophilus, and in his patron's train he went to the
Peloponnese. His personal merit brought him advancement, and fortune
[Illustration: YEDI KOULÉ KAPOUSSI, OR GATE OF THE SEVEN TOWERS.
One evening in the middle of the ninth century, a youth entered the
city, but not by the Golden Gate, for to none but Emperors or visitors
of the highest rank was the Golden Gate thrown open--he entered what is
now Yedi Koulé Kapoussi.]
favoured him again in making him acquainted with a wealthy widow,
Danielis, who adopted him as her son. This youth was Basil I--the
founder of the Macedonian Dynasty, whom we saw in that proud pageant of
victorious Emperors passing under the Porta Aurea.
The monks of St. Diomed had no occasion to repent their hospitality to
the stranger, for Basil found many ways of proving his gratitude towards
his former hosts.