THE WALLS OF THEODOSIUS TO THE GATE OF ST. ROMANUS
Having escaped from the hands of the Artist, the travellers fall into
the clutches of the Author, who insists on showing them the Golden Gate
from both sides as it really is to-day. For that purpose we enter by a
gateway a little to the north of the Porta Aurea. This is called Yedi
Koulé Kapoussi, or the "Gate of the Seven Towers," and stands where
stood formerly a Byzantine gate through which Basil entered the city. As
we may infer from its name, the present gate is of Turkish origin, as
are also the strong towers that rise up on our right. Bearing
southwards, we come to an entrance in that section of the wall which
faces east. We enter and stand, in fact, where we had stood in
imagination watching the triumphant pageants of former ages defiling
past us. We may enter one of the strong towers, the shape of which is
familiar to all who have visited Roumeli Hissar, and thus we know it to
be of Turkish construction. A winding staircase
[Illustration: PART OF TURKISH FORTRESS OF YEDI KOULÉ.
We may enter one of the strong towers, the shape of which is familiar to
all who have visited Roumeli Hissar, and thus we know it to be of
Turkish construction.]
leads us to the rampart; through a bend in the wall we may look down
into the interior of the tower, where erstwhile spacious vaulted
chambers held the garrison while captives pined in the dungeons below.
The romantic tales that cling to all dungeons are not wanting here, for
beneath this spot even ambassadors are said to have languished, though
probably not for any length of time, for the person of such high
representatives of foreign potentates partake in some degree of their
master's lustre and may not be lightly treated. Nevertheless, the
Venetian ambassador was once arrested by Achmet III, when he and Charles
XII, the most picturesque figure of the beginning of the eighteenth
century, were allied against Russia, and Venetian possessions in Morea
barred the path of further Turkish conquests.
As we walk along the top of the ramparts we see how strong these ruined
walls still remain, and how much greater their strength must have been
when rebuilt in 1457 A.D. by Mahomet the conqueror. And before Mahomet's
day this citadel's history was a record of stout resistance to the
city's enemies, for it long defied the onslaught of the Turks, who
rebuilt it when the city fell into their hands. The Sultan had planted a
cannon before this stronghold, and tried its strength with other engines
of war, but Manuel of Liguria and his two hundred men held out until
the end.
A pathetic figure appeared in 1347, John Cantacuzene, who, though a
loyal guardian to his young Imperial master, was driven into civil war
by court intrigues. His followers admitted him into this stronghold
before he retired to monastic seclusion. He had some difficulty in
persuading his partisans, the Latin garrison, to surrender to John
Palæologus. This emperor then thought fit to weaken the defences of this
citadel, but luckily left it strong enough to protect himself from the
attacks of his rebellious son Andronicus.
Good reason for strengthening the fort occurred when Bajazet roamed at
large in Europe, and John Palæologus set about doing so. The Sultan,
hearing of it, sent an order that those new defences should be at once
pulled down again, and that non-compliance would mean the loss of
eyesight to Manuel, heir to the throne and at that time hostage in the
Turkish camp.
Standing on the ramparts of this ancient stronghold it is difficult to
realize the old days of stress and storm. In the clear air and sunshine
life seems too serene for the fierce passions that drove a swarm of
Saracens in repeated attacks against the grey walls. These fiery
followers of the prophet came up from the South over that limpid sea.
Yet in the seventh century, forty-six years after the flight of Mahomed
from Mecca, it was alive with the lateen sails of the swarthy marauders.
Caliph Moawiyah had no sooner resumed the throne by suppressing his
rivals than he decided to wipe away the bloodstains of civil strife by a
holy war. A holy war, if it is to attain to the fullest perfection of
sanctity, should also be profitable, and no richer prize offered than
Constantinople. The Arabs, since they had issued from the desert, had
found victory rapid and easy of achievement; so, having carried their
triumphant ensign to the banks of the Indus and the heights of the
Pyrenees, they had some reason to consider themselves invincible. Not
only was the capital of the Eastern Empire the richest prize, but its
conquest seemed to present no great difficulties, as an unworthy emperor
loosely held the reins of government at this time. Heraclius had entered
the Golden Gate in triumph after defeating the Persians. Constantine,
his grandson, third of that name, was called upon to defend it against
the Saracens.
These fierce warriors were allowed to pass unchallenged through the
narrow channel of the Dardanelles, where they might at least have been
checked, and landed near the Hebdomon. Day by day, from dawn till
sunset, the sons of the desert surged round the stately defences of the
city, their main attack being directed against the Golden Gate. Every
attempt proved abortive, yet they held on with marvellous persistence.
On the approach of winter they would retire to a base established on the
isle of Cysicus, where they stored their spoils and provisions. For six
successive summers they kept up the attempt upon the city walls, their
hope and vigour gradually fading, until shipwreck and disease, allied
with sword and fire, the newly-invented Greek fire, forced them to
relinquish the fruitless enterprise. Their losses are computed at 30,000
slain, and among these they bewailed the loss of Abou Eyub or Tob. That
venerable Arab was one of the last-surviving companions of Mahomed; he
was numbered among the ansars or auxiliaries of Medina, who sheltered
the head of the fugitive prophet. Eyub lies buried at a spot not far
from the northern extremity of the land-walls on the shores of the
Golden Horn, where a mosque, one of the most beautiful of all those that
adorn Constantinople, now enshrines his bones. It is at this Mosque of
Eyub that the Sultan, on his accession, is girded with the sacred sword
of Othmar, a ceremony that compares in religious importance with the
coronation of a Christian monarch.
The unsuccessful issue of the Saracen attacks upon Constantinople cast
a shadow upon the lustre of their army, and revived both in the East and
West the prestige of the Roman sword. A truce of thirty years was
ratified at Damascus in 677, and the majesty of the Commander of the
Faithful was dimmed by the necessity of paying tribute, fifty horses of
a noble breed, fifty slaves and three thousand pieces of gold.
A yet more barbarous enemy appeared before this section of the city
walls in Leo the Armenian's reign. Rumours of their approach had reached
the city, and it was heralded by vast clouds of dust raised by the feet
of innumerable flocks of sheep and goats who accompanied these
adventurers wherever they went. They pitched their leathern tents on the
plain and heights outside the Golden Gate, where their strange aspect
startled those who held watch and ward over the city. These barbarians
were clad in furs, they shaved their heads and scarified their faces, of
luxury they knew nothing, and their sole industries were violence and
rapine.
Finding all his efforts against the stout walls of the city unavailing,
King Crum, the leader of these hordes, offered up human sacrifices under
the Golden Gate. But this failed to propitiate his gods, and one day a
receding cloud of dust announced the departure of these savage enemies.
Another foe knocked at the portal of the Golden Gate and tried his
strength against the wall in vain, though sometimes more successful in
the open field. A new power had arisen on the banks of the Danube in the
days of Constantine III--the Bulgarians.
Whence they came and what their origin is still a matter of conjecture
best left to those whose business it is to find out. Suffice it to say
that they appear from time to time and trouble the peace of the Eastern
Empire, or on some rare occasions act as its allies. Their history is
strangely stirring. Theodoric, in his march to Italy, had trampled on
them, and for a century and a half all traces of their name and nation
disappear from the historian's ken. In the ninth century we hear of them
again on the southern bank of the Danube. Their return to the North from
whence they came was prevented by a stronger race that followed them,
whilst their progress to the West was checked by more powerful nations
in that quarter. They found some vent for their military ardour in
opposing the inroads of the Eastern emperors, and may lay claim to an
honour till then appropriated only by the Goths--that of having slain a
Roman emperor in battle.
It came about in this fashion. The Emperor Nicephorus had advanced with
boldness and success into the west of Bulgaria and destroyed the royal
court by fire. But while he lingered on in search of spoil, refusing
all treaties, his enemies collected their forces and barred the passes
of retreat. For two days the Emperor waited in despair and inactivity,
on the third the Bulgarians surprised the camp and slew the Emperor and
great officers of the Eastern Empire. Valens had, after the Emperor's
death at the hands of the Goths, escaped from insult, but the skull of
Nicephorus I, encased with gold, served as a drinking vessel.
Before the end of the same century a better understanding had been
established, and the sons of Bulgarian nobles were educated in the
schools and palaces of Constantinople; among them was Simeon, a youth of
royal line, of whom Luitprand the historian says: "Simeon fortis
bellator, Bulgariæ proecrat; Christianus sed vicinis Græcis valde
inimicus." Many Bulgarian youths are even now being educated at the
Robert College.
Simeon was intended for a religious life, but he abandoned it to take up
arms; he inherited the crown of Bulgaria and reigned over that country
from the end of the ninth to well into the tenth century. His hostility
to the Greeks found frequent expression, and he and his host appeared
before the walls of Constantinople. On classic ground at Achelous, the
Greeks were vanquished by the Bulgarians, thereupon Simeon hastened to
besiege the Emperor in his own strong city. Simeon and the Emperor met
in conference--the Bulgarians vying with the Greeks in the splendour of
their display, though combined with the most jealous precautions against
unpleasant surprises, and their monarch dictated the terms on which he
would agree to peace. "Are you a Christian?" asked the humbled Emperor
Romanus I. "It is your duty to abstain from the blood of your
fellow-Christians. Has the thirst for riches seduced you from the
blessings of peace? Sheath your sword, open your hand and I will give
you the utmost measure of your desire."
Soon the successors of Simeon by their jealousies undermined the
strength of the kingdom, and when next they went forth to meet the
Greeks in battle Basil II found no great difficulty in defeating them. A
terrible home-coming theirs; through snow and ice the remnant of
Bulgaria's manhood struggled on in little bands of a hundred at a time,
following the voice, each company, of a single leader, as they groped
their way through the darkness. For they were blinded. They had escaped
from the clemency of a Christian emperor, by whose orders only one man
in a hundred retained the sight of one eye. The King of the Bulgarians
died of grief. His people lived on, contained within the limits of a
narrow province, to wait in patience for revenge. The visitor to Sofia,
the new capital of a new Bulgaria, should not fail to inspect the
museum, carefully and skilfully arranged by King Ferdinand. There he
will find, among a host of interesting matter, pictures illustrating the
history of the country. Of these works none is more strikingly pathetic
than one which represents the return of those sightless Bulgarian
warriors.
As after the crushing defeat inflicted on the inhabitants of Bulgaria by
the Goths, the country silently and forcefully waited to regain its
strength. Another century and a half elapsed after the victory of Basil
Bulgaroktonos before the Bulgarians regained offensive power. During
this interval they existed as a province of the dominions of Byzantium,
and no attempts were made to impose Roman laws and usage upon them.
It was Isaac Angelus who lashed the Bulgarians to desperation by driving
away their only means of subsistence--their flocks and herds--to
contribute to the extravagant splendour that was wasted on his nuptials.
Two powerful Bulgarian chiefs--Peter and Asan--rose in revolt, asserted
their own rights and the national freedom, and spread the fire of
rebellion from the Danube to the hills of Macedonia and Thrace. By the
supineness of the Emperor these proceedings were allowed to pass
unchecked, a fact which added to the contempt felt for the Greeks by
their former subjects. Asan addressed his troops in these words: "In all
the Greeks, the same climate and character and education will be
productive of the same fruits. Behold my lance and the long streamers
that float in the wind. They differ only in colour, they are formed of
the same silk and fashioned by the same workman, nor has the stripe that
is stained in purple any superior price or value above its fellows."
So after several faint efforts Isaac and his brother, who usurped the
throne, acquiesced in the independence of the Bulgarians. John, or
Joannice, ascended the throne of a second kingdom of Bulgaria, and
submitted himself as a spiritual vassal to the Pope, from whom he
received a licence to coin money, a royal title and a Latin archbishop.
Thus the Vatican accomplished the spiritual conquest of Bulgaria, the
first object of the schism between the Western and the Eastern See when,
after the disorders provoked by hopeless Eastern emperors, such as
Alexius IV and V, and Nicolas Canabus, the Latins gained possession of
the throne of Cæsar. Calo-John, as he was called, King of Bulgaria, sent
friendly greetings to Baldwin I, but these provoked an unexpected
answer. The
[Illustration: THEODOSIAN WALL AND APPROACH TO BELGRADE KAPOUSSI, SECOND
MILITARY STATE.
These are the Theodosian Walls, the proudest and most lasting monument
to that dynasty which was founded when Gratian invested Theodosius with
the Imperial Purple.]
Latin Emperor demanded that the rebel should deserve his pardon by
touching with his forehead the footstool of the Imperial throne. So
trouble broke out again, again war was waged with all its attendant
savagery, and Calo-John reinforced his army by a body of 14,000 horsemen
from the Scythian deserts. A fierce battle at Adrianople resulted in the
total defeat of the Emperor, and he himself was taken prisoner. His fate
was for some years uncertain, and even the demands of the Pope for the
restitution of the Emperor failed to elicit any other answer from King
John, save that Baldwin had died in prison. For years the conflict raged
till Henry, the second of the Latin Emperors, routed the Bulgarians.
Calo-John was slain in his tent by night, and the deed was piously
ascribed to the lance of St. Demetrius.
We have followed the sad fate of the crusade which Pope Urban proclaimed
against the Turks in a preceding chapter and seen how Amurath,
surprising the Christian camp, drove his enemies before him "as flames
driven before the wind, till plunging into the Maritza they perished in
its waters." Sisvan the Bulgarian King obtained a peace at the price of
the marriage of his daughter to Amurath in 1389, invaded the kingdom of
Bulgaria, making Adrianople the base of operations; how Sisvan the king
fled to Nicopolis, was there besieged by Ali and surrendered.
From that date till quite recent times Bulgaria has been incorporated in
the Ottoman Empire. Now, after a lapse of over five centuries, she has
again established her national identity and under an enlightened and
progressive ruler gives promise of holding her own without experiencing
another break in the history of the race. The Golden Gate and its
romantic history has claimed a considerable portion of the travellers'
and the Author's time. The Artist hopes his pencil has done sufficient
justice to those glorious ruins, and for some time has turned eager eyes
northward, where a line of stately towers and masses of ruined masonry
offer fair prospect of enriching his store of sketches.
The road that leads us onward may perhaps pass unrecognized as such by
travellers who are used to the smooth surface over which the motor races
in a cloud of dust in Western countries. But let the Author assure them
that this broad track, one side supplied with rough stones picturesquely
dispersed, the other chiefly consisting of ruts and holes, is indeed a
road, and that, too, one whereon we have to travel. Moving along we soon
forget its shortcomings in the beauty of the scenery on either hand. To
the left a gentle ridge, and everywhere, as far as eye can see,
countless cypress-trees, some in stately groups, others in dark, jagged
masses. Beneath these rest faithful sons of Islam, many of whom dashed
out their souls against the walls that rise on our right hand. Tier upon
tier they rise--some almost intact, others battered beyond recognition,
right away from the Golden Gate to within sight of the Golden Horn.
These are the Theodosian walls, the proudest and most lasting monument
to that dynasty which was founded when Gratian invested Theodosius with
the Imperial Purple.
We watched the enceinte of the city of Byzas grow, saw how the walls he
built to landward could no longer contain the increasing population. The
walls that Byzas built have vanished, and those of Constantine the Great
have served their purpose, and were dismantled, so that to Theodosius II
was left the task of giving to the city its widest limits. Historians of
the time draw a pleasant picture of the scene when these walls were
erected. The different factions all combined to help, and inscriptions,
still to be seen, testify to this fact. All citizens were called upon to
assist, so without waste of time these walls arose. Misfortune visited
them shortly after their completion, when an earthquake overthrew a
great portion of the work, including fifty-seven towers. At an
inopportune moment too, for the arms of Theodosius had suffered defeat
by Attila in three successive engagements, and "The Scourge of God," as
he was pleased to call himself, having ravaged the provinces of
Macedonia and Thrace with fire and sword, was drawing very near to
Constantinople. But two determined men--Constantine, Prætorian Prefect
of the East, and Marcellius Comes--called upon the patriotism of the
populace, and in less than three months the damaged walls had been
restored and even strengthened by their united efforts.
An imposing prospect these walls still offer even in their present
state; how much more formidable must they have appeared when all one
hundred and ninety-two towers stood firm and unshaken and the walls
between had not been broken by an enemy's artillery or dismantled by the
tooth of time! Their construction was a marvel of devotion, their plan
the work of genius, for of its kind no defences better calculated to
protect a city were ever devised by human ingenuity. Let us move to the
very edge of the road, where there is a slightly raised and extremely
irregular footpath, and take a general and comprehensive glance at the
walls of Theodosius. At our feet the counterscarp which stayed the earth
on the enemy's side from filling up the moat. There comes the moat over
sixty feet in width. The depth when still in use is not known to us, but
we know from our visit to the Golden Gate that it must have been
considerable.
The wall we see on the further side of the moat, taking the enemy's
point of view, is the scarp. Some of its battlements remain; they served
to cover the movements of troops on the terrace between the scarp and
the wall. This outer wall rises to about ten feet and tapers from a base
of about six feet in thickness to two feet at the summit. From the
remains of this wall we can gather that it contained a long series of
vaulted chambers which offered shelter to the troops engaged in the
defence, and there are loopholes facing west, through which their fire
was directed. Small towers, some round, others square, about thirty-five
feet high, still further strengthened the position. But the main defence
lay in the inner wall, separated from the outer one by a broad terrace
of some fifty feet, which served as a parade-ground for the troops that
garrisoned the chambers of the outer wall, when the city was invested by
an enemy. This imposing mass of fortifications stands on a higher level
than the others, and here the main strength of the defence was
stationed. A chain of mighty towers composed it, and they are linked
together by stout walls known as curtains to the expert. These towers,
most of which are square, stand about one hundred and seventy feet
apart, and rose, when in their completed state, to a height of sixty
feet, standing out some twenty feet from the curtain. Each tower
contained, as a rule, two chambers, was built of carefully cut stone and
vaulted inside with brick. Many a broken tower shows on the outside some
mark or inscription dating back to the distant days of the glory of old
Byzantium. On the city side of the inner wall may still be seen traces
of stone steps that led up to the summit, whence other flights of steps
led under cover of battlements to the roof of each tower.
For ten centuries these walls defied all onslaughts of an enemy; the
battle-cry of many strange races, some whose day is done, others who
stand high in the history of civilization to-day, was answered by shouts
of defiance from the defenders of the city. So let us cross over the
moat and look into one of those huge towers, which with their attendant
curtains gave the Eastern capital its immunity from invasion for so many
ages. Though appearing to form one solid mass, they are in reality built
separately, so as to allow for the different rate of sinking between
buildings of different weight.
We may enter one of these broken towers from the
[Illustration: THEODOSIAN WALL.--A BROKEN TOWER, OUTSIDE.
Many a broken tower shows on the outside some mark or inscription dating
back to the distant days of the glory of old Byzantium.]
inner terrace, by a gap in the strong stonework, caused probably by an
earthquake. This opening takes us to a place half-way between the floor
and ceiling of the lower chamber. The vaulting that supported the upper
floor has fallen in, but we can trace it in the brickwork that here, as
elsewhere amid these walls, recall in shape and colour the remains of
the defences of Imperial Rome. And yet another likeness strikes us in
the courses of brick, laid at intervals in the construction of walls and
towers, which served to bind the mass of masonry yet more firmly. This
lower chamber, all dismantled now, and overgrown with weeds, may in
times of peace have served a peaceful purpose. Access to it was from
inside the walls, and the proprietor of the land on which it stood was
permitted to use it for what purposes he chose. But when the fire
signals that flared on the tops of convenient heights gave notice of an
enemy's approach these vaults would ring with the sound of armour and
the epithets wherewith soldiers of all ages are supposed to garnish
their remarks.
Arms and their use, and armour to protect the warrior, knew but few
changes during the centuries that these walls fulfilled their purpose.
Men went to war clad in armour more or less protected according to their
rank and the weight they were able to sustain. Their weapons were bow
and arrow, sword, battle-axe and spear, and their tactics did not
require a constant series of new regulations. Even the invention of
Greek fire did not bring about a revolution in the methods of warfare,
although it was used with deadly effect both in sieges and sea-fights.
For many years the Greek Empire maintained the traditions of the Roman
legions, but the men were not of the same stern stuff. Instead of
accustoming their mercenaries to the weight of armour by constant use,
they carried it after them in light chariots, until on the approach of
an enemy it was resumed with haste and reluctance.
The need of reviving the martial spirit was felt by many an emperor, and
edicts were issued commanding all able-bodied males up to the age of
forty, to make themselves proficient in the practice of the bow. But the
Greek populace resisted these commands, so when the time of trial came
they were found wanting, and had to give up their possessions into the
hands of a stronger, sterner race, with loftier conceptions of a
citizen's duty.
With these reflections we must turn away from the vaults of the ruined
tower, and leave it as a symbol of the decay that eats out the heart of
all nations who forget that their country's greatness was built up only
[Illustration: THEODOSIAN WALL--A BROKEN TOWER (INSIDE).
We must turn away from the vaults of the ruined tower, and leave it as a
symbol of the decay that eats out the heart of all nations who forget
that their country's greatness was built up only by the self-sacrifice
of former generations.]
by the self-sacrifice of former generations, and that patriotism
requires deeds and not mere empty words to maintain the heirlooms of the
past.
There are a number of gates that pierce the Theodosian walls. With some
of them we have little concern. Their purpose was to expedite the
manning of the defences by former garrisons. We pass the second military
gate, now known as Belgrad Kapoussi, all embowered in trees, the moat in
front of it filled up to serve the peaceful purpose of a market-garden.
Our way leads on along the road, which makes a curve more to northward
and rises slightly.
On the higher ground groups of cypress rise in sharp outline against the
sky. On our left hand is an historic spot, for here stood the Church of
St. Mary of the Pegé, the Holy Spring. A road led to this sanctuary
through a gate still standing, called the Gate of the Pegé, now Silivria
Kapoussi. Numbers of pious pilgrims have passed this way barefooted, to
test the healing qualities of the Holy Spring with the added strength of
faith, and on the high festival of the Ascension the Emperor himself
would visit here in solemn state.
One of these emperors, of whom we have already heard so much, was stoned
by the populace on his return, and only with difficulty regained his
palace by the Sea of Marmora--the Emperor Nicephorus Phocas. This gate
contributed again to the history of the Byzantine Empire when Alexius
Strategopoulos, general of Michael Palæologus, entered here in 1261,
drove out the Latin Emperor and reinstated his Imperial master.
Andronicus, that rebel, entered the city by this gate to usurp his
father's throne.
Amurath II camped here, in the grounds of the Church of the Holy Spring,
during the first half of the fifteenth century, and less than fifty
years later, in the last scene of the Eastern Empire's romantic history,
a battery of three guns attacked this point.
A few hundred yards to northward of the historic portals of Silivria is
the third military gate, and at the northern tower that flanks it the
inner wall recedes for a short space and then comes out again to
continue in a straight line. This recess is called the Sigma, and in the
quarter that lies behind this section of the wall, dramatic events in
the life of Constantinople took place.
Our travellers must again return to those dim ages of turbulent history.
Constantine IX had died in 1028, the last of the Macedonian dynasty
founded by that Basil whom we watched as he entered by the side entrance
of the Golden Gate weary and travel-stained,
[Illustration: GATE OF RHEGIUM, OR YEDI MEVLEVI HANEH.
The Gate of Rhegium--now known as Yedi Mevlevi Haneh, Kapoussi.]
but later to rise to the Imperial Purple. Of Constantine's three
daughters, Eudoxia took the veil and Theodora declined to marry. There
remained Zoe, who professed herself a willing sacrifice at the hymeneal
altar. A bridegroom was found for her in one Romanus Orgyrus, a
patrician, but he declined the honour on the sufficient ground of being
already married. Romanus was informed that blindness or death were the
alternatives to a royal match, and his devoted wife sacrificed her
happiness to her husband's safety and greatness by retiring into a
convent and thus removing the only bar to the Imperial nuptials. So
Romanus reigned as third emperor of that name, though not for long, for
Zoe found in her chamberlain, Michael the Paphlagonian, attractions
superior to those of her lawful spouse. Romanus died suddenly and Zoe
married Michael immediately, and raised him to the throne as fourth
emperor of that name. But he, too, proved disappointing, so yet another
Michael, a nephew, was introduced into the story by John the Eunuch,
brother of the Emperor.
Michael IV died and Michael V reigned in his stead, but only for a year.
His first act was to disgrace his uncle John, his second was the exile
of his adopted mother, the daughter of so many emperors. This roused the
populace to fury. The Emperor Michael Calaphates, as he was called
after his father's trade, was dragged from the monastery of Studius,
where he had taken refuge, to the statue of Theodosius III in the
quarter of the Sigma. Here he and his uncle Constantine were deprived of
their eyesight.
Our road leads on and, rising slightly, brings us to yet another gate,
known to the chroniclers of Byzantine history as the Gate of Rhegium, a
town some twelve miles distant, now called Kutchuk Tchekmejdé. This gate
was erected by the Red faction, and was no doubt at one time a busy
thoroughfare. Now it is know as Yedi Mevlevi, Haneh Kapoussi. It is
almost deserted; two slender cypress-trees guard the entrance, through
which you may see a white-turbaned hodja pass on his way towards the
mosque, whose tapering minaret gleams over the broken, ivy-clad
battlements.
Rising higher as we go on, we pass stately groups of cypresses on our
left, and before us, where the road bends slightly to the right, a very
forest of those trees guarding a Turkish cemetery where thousands of the
faithful are interred. Let us step on to one of those low walls that
cross the moat; their original purpose has not yet been definitely
ascertained; their summit used to taper to a sharp edge, but this has
worn away and we find ample standing room. Looking back the
[Illustration: TOP KAPOUSSI, GATE OF ST. ROMANUS.
The slight bend in the road takes us to the Gate of St. Romanus, now
known as Top Kapoussi.]
way we came, we see a double line of walls and towers, that for so many
years guarded the City of Constantine and allowed the nations of the
West to evolve from chaos. The moat, once a serious obstacle to an
assailant, now produces from its fertile soil the fruits of a gardener's
labours. Across the road the serried ranks of cypress-trees in their
impenetrable gloom, and right away, over the ruins of Yedi Koulé, the
deep blue Sea of Marmora merging into the clearer azure of a southern
sky.
The slight bend in the road takes us due north, though until now we have
been holding a point or two to west, and across a worse pavement than
before we search the Gate of St. Romanus, now known as Top Kapoussi.
Beyond the road this gate is guarded by an unnumbered multitude that
rest here under the forest of cypress-trees. Two roads converge upon
this gate, so there is a stream of oriental life continually passing
through it by day. Troops marching out to field-drill in the morning,
mules and ponies entering with baskets full of country produce, and
perhaps a string of camels, laden with Eastern goods, setting out for
the Western provinces. And in the gateway you may see signs of
commercial enterprise, small booths and stalls doing trade in a
dignified and oriental way, while a cobbler sits in the sunshine mending
shoes, the wearer of which waits barefooted and deep in contemplation.
From sunrise to sunset this place is full of the sounds and sights that
travellers in the East are wont to enjoy, but at night it is given over
to haunting memories.
Entering this gate one afternoon, the Artist had an experience which he
is burning to relate. A tram-line leads from here into the heart of the
city; a car was about to start and the Artist boarded it. Drawn by a
horse with no ambition to break records, the journey proceeded. The
other passengers were two Armenians, Army doctors, and a Turk, a young
man of independent habits and picturesquely clad. All paid their fare to
the conductor, a venerable Turk with a long grey beard. All but the
young man--he declined emphatically. "But it is usual to pay," protested
the conductor--"every one pays who travels by this tram; those effendi
there have paid." No! the young man would not unbend--he still more
resolutely refused. So in despair the old conductor turned to the other
passengers and asked: "May this be?" "Is this the will of Allah?" The
doctors shook their heads and answered nothing; the Artist, usually so
well informed, held his peace, for he is no authority on the view that
Allah may take of tram-fares. So the
[Illustration: THIRD MILITARY GATE.
In the gateway you may see signs of commercial enterprise.
From sunrise to sunset this place is full of the sounds and sights that
travellers in the East are wont to enjoy.]
journey proceeded, but not for long. The road being up, the passengers
alighted, though they had paid a fare entitling them to travel to the
end. This no doubt was Kismet--but it affords a striking instance of the
way in which the rain of Allah falls on just and unjust without
preference or distinction.