FROM THE GATE OF EDIRNÉ TO THE GOLDEN HORN
Our travellers are approaching their journey's end. The road leads on
northward up a steeper incline than that which took us to the Gate of
St. Romanus. Under the shade of cypress-trees, for here too they stand
in dense and sombre gloom, we pass the Edirné Kapoussi, known before the
Turkish conquest as the Gate of Charisius. Here the walls of Theodosius
recede towards the city. To reach them again we enter a little wooden
gate into a Greek cemetery. An attendant Greek springs up out of the
long grass with a hungry leer, and though we may not understand his
speech, his hand extended to us, palm upwards, makes his meaning clear.
The Artist proudly points out that on all three occasions he knows of,
the palm of that hand returned empty to the suppliant's trouser-pocket.
A few paces due west take us again to the edge of the moat, out of the
rank grass where a few goats are browsing, and from among the brambles
that spring out of the crannies in the ruined scarp and counterscarp,
rise sturdy fig-trees. Their grey stems, the twisted branches and deep
grey foliage form a sympathetic foreground to the mass of ruins that
rise beyond them, bathed in the waning light. This is the Palace of the
Porphyrogenitus, of him born in the Purple.
A flanking tower almost hides the west front of the palace from our
view, the curtain that connects this tower with the next one to the
south-west has a romantic history. The wall was formerly much higher,
and was pierced by a small gate, known as the Kerko Porta, or Circus
Gate. We well remember the name of this gate as it played its part on
that dread day when the glory of the Eastern Empire subsided into a heap
of smouldering ruins. A rumour arose during the last day of the siege,
and ran like a heath-fire along the lines to the defence, that the Turks
had gained admission to the city by this gate. They did, but whether by
treachery or their own valour no one knows. They were driven out again,
and for a short time longer the Emperor's heroism delayed the
inevitable.
In time a remarkable tradition attached itself to this small gate. The
Greeks believed that when the city should again be captured, it would be
by Christians, the first of whom would enter by this postern. The Turks,
of course, had heard of this tradition, so when
[Illustration: THE PALACE OF THE PORPHYROGENITUS, FROM THE FOSSE.
This is the Palace of the Porphyrogenitus, of him born in the
Purple.]
a northern enemy came down upon them, when the Slavs rose in their
strength and forced the passes of the Balkans, they took such
precautions as their ardent faith in such superstitions suggested. They
pulled down the curtain so that the Russians might not enter through the
Kerko Porta, and replaced it by a smaller wall.
Before we enter by a little doorway through the Turkish wall, we will
walk along what was once the terrace, and look up at the ruins of this
historic palace. There are traces of an archway that seem to have
connected the palace with its western flanking tower. It is said that on
this archway a balcony rested. Possibly a doorway led from the purple
chamber on to this balcony, for here the infant prince for whose birth
arrangements had been made in that chamber, was held up to overlook the
country stretching away into the western provinces, and solemnly
proclaimed "Cæsar Orbi."
Entering by the doorway in the Turkish wall we get a view of this
imposing ruin from the foot of a stout tower, the last of that chain of
defences built in the Theodosian era. The majestic proportions of this
building, despite the irregularity of the window openings, are best seen
from here; and here again we may notice the remains of yet another
balcony and in continuation of the legend, gather that the infant
prince took his first view of the city from here, and on this spot was
proclaimed "Cæsar Urbis."
To enter the Palace of the Porphyrogenitus we must walk along a narrow
street with the usual little wooden houses on either side. Through a
narrow entrance and across a yard, which is by some described as a glass
factory, because attempts are made here to manufacture bottles out of
broken window-panes, a footpath through rank growth leads to our goal.
Where we are passing was a courtyard which never echoed to the ring of
an armed heel, for it was forbidden to awake the Daughter of the Arch,
as Echo was picturesquely called by Eastern courtiers.
Historians do not say for certain who it was that built this palace.
Most of them inclined to the belief that it derived its name and origin
from Constantine Porphyrogenitus, a builder of many castles, and thus
would put its date in the tenth century.
We would like to reconstruct this oblong building, to rebuild the arches
that supported its three storeys, and fill up the gaps that time and
impious hands had torn in the mosaic patterns of brick and stone that
decorated the exterior. By the aid of imagination we may succeed in
this, but not in giving to the interior its former splendour. All we may
safely do is to go back
[Illustration: THE PALACE OF THE PORPHYROGENITUS, FROM WITHIN THE WALLS.
The majestic proportions of this building are best seen from here; and
here again we may notice the remains of yet another balcony and, in
continuation of the legend, gather that the infant prince took his first
view of the city from here, and on this spot was proclaimed "Cæsar
Urbis."]
to those days when history was made here, take up a strand or two of the
City's and the Empire's skein of destiny.
Near here and separated from this palace only by a courtyard stood yet
another, a lordlier one, that of Blachernæ. This was the usual residence
of the Imperial family in the fourteenth century, so Andronicus III
found the Palace of the Porphyrogenitus convenient quarters when he came
to wrest the sceptre from his grandfather, Andronicus II.
The history of this revolt gives some insight into the state of affairs
that reigned in the Imperial City. Andronicus the Elder had devoted the
best part of his reign to an absorbing interest in the disputes of the
Greek Church. On this account, perhaps, he had failed to appreciate the
rising power of the Ottoman Empire. According to the custom of the
Palæologi, Andronicus associated his son Michael with the honours of the
Purple. Michael proved an exemplary Cæsar in every respect, and his son,
also Andronicus, was in time admitted to the dignity of Augustus. So
there was a triumvirate of Cæsars in the Imperial Purple. But Andronicus
the Younger turned out a spendthrift and a profligate, and matters came
to a head when one night he shot his brother Manuel in the street. The
details of this unsavoury adventure are of no moment, suffice it to
relate that the shock of his son's iniquity brought about the death of
Michael, already ailing, within eight days of the unhappy occurrence.
Andronicus the Elder dispossessed his unruly grandson, who, however,
escaped from confinement under pretext of hunting, and raised the
standard of revolt in the provinces. During a ruinous period of seven
years the quarrel between grandfather and grandson was protracted, till
in 1328 Andronicus the Younger effected his entry into the city by
surprise, forced his aged grandfather to retire, and as third monarch of
that name usurped the throne. Four years after his abdication Andronicus
the Elder died, known to his monastery as Monk Authoy.
Another figure played a prominent part within these roofless halls. We
have met him before, John Cantacuzene, of whom his enemies confessed
that of all the public robbers he alone was moderate and abstemious. He
resisted all the attempts of Andronicus III to raise him to a seat
beside him on the throne, and at that Emperor's death became guardian of
his infant son, John Palæologus.
In those days internal peace was not the Empire's lot for long, and soon
a conspiracy was formed against Cantacuzene. Anne of Savoy, the Dowager
Empress, was persuaded to assert the tutelage of her son, and her
female court was bribed to support this claim by the Admiral Apocaucus.
The Patriarch, John of Apri, a proud and weak old man, joined the
conspiracy, and even assumed the claims to temporal power of a Roman
Pontiff; he invaded the royal privilege of red shoes or buskins, placed
on his head a mitre of silk or gold, and signed his epistles with
hyacinth or green ink.
While John Cantacuzene was abroad on public service, the conspirators
convicted him of treason, proscribed him as an enemy of the Church,
deprived him of all his fortune, and even cast his aged mother into
prison. He was forced to assume the Purple, and as rebel Emperor
endeavoured to resume the charge entrusted to him, the guardianship of
John Palæologus. But civil war devastated the provinces that yet
remained to the Empire, and not till Apocaucus was murdered by some
nobles whom he had imprisoned was peace restored. The negotiations to
this end were carried on between the Palace of the Porphyrogenitus,
where Cantacuzene had taken up his abode, and the neighbouring residence
of Empress Anne, the Palace of Blachernæ. The proceedings ended in
peace, and the marriage of Cantacuzene's daughter to John Palæologus.
But the sword did not long rust in its sheath. Civil war broke out
again, and finally John Cantacuzene sought refuge in a monastery, where
he spent his declining years in a lengthy, if somewhat unprofitable,
treatise on the divine light of Mount Tabor.
We must retrace our steps, and, leaving by the doorway we entered, let
us cast a glance to northward. The moat ends abruptly, and a curtain
projects towards the north-west flanked by towers. This is the wall of
Manuel Comnenus, and so dates from the middle of the twelfth century.
Other fortifications must have stood here before that time to guard the
Palace of Blachernæ, but little trace remains either of these or of the
palace itself. Yet here behind these walls, or those that they replaced,
the dynasty of the Comnenians lived out their day, and they deserve a
word or two of recognition if only on account of Anne, the daughter of
the first Alexius, and Manuel the builder of this wall. Of these, the
former aspired to fame as historian of her father's reign, but the
modicum of truth which is contained in the voluminous records she
compiled is much obscured by elaborate affectations of windy rhetoric.
No doubt the description of her father's character was dictated by
filial piety--it stands in sharp contrast to the last words that that
Emperor heard from his wife Irene: "You die as you have lived--a
hypocrite!"
[Illustration: TOWER OF MANUEL COMENUS.
This is the wall of Manuel Comnenus, and so dates from the middle of the
twelfth century.]
The Empress Irene tried to exclude her surviving sons, and to place the
power of government in the fair hands of Anne, but the order of male
succession was asserted by those able to enforce it. The fair historian,
Anne Comnena, no doubt in order to add one more elaborate chapter to the
high-sounding verbiage with which she had clothed the history of her
time, conspired to poison her brother John; her husband, Bryennius,
prevented the design and John Comnenus reigned in his father's stead. He
generously forgave his sister, and no doubt much to the edification of
future generations her momentous work continued. In all the history that
is recorded by the grim walls that sheltered the city of Constantine,
there are but few events that leave a pleasant memory, few rays of
gladdening light that pierce the turmoil of angry passions, the darkness
of sordid details, the strife and anguish that largely composed the life
of the city Byzas founded. And, alas! these rare events serve but to
make the contrast stronger and to intensify the shadows that hang about
these ruined palaces and ramparts.
We have traced the history of Constantinople through its walls up to the
time when they could no longer hold out against the assaults of those
who now carry on the Imperial traditions. But there are yet places left
for us to visit--they have their tales to tell, and of all that remains
to-day, the story of the reign of John Comnenus is the pleasantest. In
him the Empire found a ruler whose days were never darkened by
conspiracy or rebellion, save for that one instance already mentioned.
His nobles feared him, his people loved him, and he had no need to
punish or forgive any personal enemy. In his private life he emulated
Marcus Aurelius: he was frugal and abstemious, severe with himself and
indulgent to others. He proved successful in his warlike measures
against the Turks, and astonished his Latin allies by the skill and
prowess of the Greeks when engaged in a holy war. He led his troops from
Constantinople to Antioch and Aleppo, there a slight wound in his hand,
received when hunting, proved fatal, and cut short his prosperous reign.
The imposing towers before us stand in their great strength as a
monument to one of whose bodily strength romantic tales are told.
Manuel, the youngest son, succeeded his father, John Comnenus, and was
acclaimed victorious by the veteran troops that followed him from the
Turkish wars back to Constantinople. His reign of thirty-seven years is
a record of warfare in many distant lands. By land and sea, against the
Turks on the plains of Hungary and along the coasts of Italy and Egypt,
this Emperor led his troops to victory.
On one occasion when marching against the Turks, he posted an ambuscade
in a wood, and then rode boldly forward in search of perilous adventure,
accompanied only by his brother Isaac and the faithful Axuch. He routed
eighteen horsemen, but the numbers of the enemy increased, and Manuel to
rejoin his army had to cut his way through 500 Turkish horsemen. Of his
exploits at sea mention may be made of an incident in the siege of
Corfu. Manuel's ship towing a captured galley passed through the enemy's
fleet. The Emperor stood on the high poop, opposing a large buckler to
the volley of darts and stones, and could not have escaped death had not
the Sicilian admiral enjoined his men to respect the person of a hero.
Many and remarkable are the stories of the Emperor Manuel's exploits,
but the end of his career saw his fortunes wane, his last campaign
against the Turks ended in disaster, he lost his army in the mountains
of Pisidia, and owed his own safety only to the generosity of the
Sultan.
The wall that Manuel Comnenus built stands high, and from its lofty
battlements the sentries who held their watch here must have seen many
strange and stirring sights. One day in the year 1203, when Alexius III
Angelus was Emperor, the watchers on the tower looked down upon a host
of glittering lances and waving pennants, on white tents and the
pavilions of haughty nobles, for the chivalry of the West was encamped
before the city walls, and these were the hosts of the fourth crusade.
The re-conquest of Jerusalem and the safety of the holy places were the
motives that impelled this army towards the East, and no doubt many of
them were as sincere in their desire to attain beatitude in this manner
as their precursors on similar expeditions had been. An illiterate
priest, Fulk de Neuilly, followed in the footsteps of Peter the Hermit,
and roamed over Europe inciting kings, princes and knights to arm for a
Holy War and march in their strength to redeem the sacred places of
their creed. His success was nearly as great as that of the first
missioner to the Crusades, and Innocent III as soon as he ascended to
the chair of St. Peter, supported Fulk de Neuilly, and proclaimed the
obligation of a new crusade in Italy, France and Germany. Fulk paid a
visit to Richard of England to induce him to join in the adventure. That
gallant monarch declined, no doubt quite satisfied with the glory gained
in his first crusade, and possibly still reminiscent of its many
misfortunes; in fact, the meeting seems to have ended in an unseemly
wrangle. At any rate Richard of England was not to be moved, and in the
light of his former experiences we cannot altogether blame him.
The propaganda met with considerable success elsewhere in Europe,
princes and knights flocked to the standard of the Cross on its eastward
march. A valiant noble, Jeffrey of Villehardouin, Marshal of Champagne,
who wielded the pen as well as the sword, has left on record the names
of those that followed this adventure; there was Thibaut, Count of
Champagne, with his hardy bands of Saracens from Navarre; Louis, Count
of Blois and Chartres, like Thibaut, a nephew of the Kings of England
and of France. Simon de Montfort, who had already expressed his devotion
to the Roman Church by cruelly persecuting the Albigenses, also joined
the host, and a brother-in-law of Thibaut, Baldwin, Count of Flanders,
with his brother Henry and many knights assumed the cross at Bruges. The
leaders of this fourth crusade, unlike their predecessors, gave evidence
of some consideration for the minor details of a campaign. Instead of
rolling like a vast stream across Europe, helping themselves to what
they wanted in the name of the Cross, gathering strength in numbers and
losing it in cohesion, these new crusaders held a counsel.
Between the solemn ratification of vows offered by these pious warrior
pilgrims before the altar and the jousts and tournaments which were
never wanting when two or three knights were gathered together, time was
actually found to consider ways and means and debate on the many details
that the planning of a big campaign entails. As a result of these
deliberations, six deputies, the historian Villehardouin among them,
proceeded to Venice, then the strongest maritime power in the
Mediterranean Sea, to solicit her assistance in providing sea transport.
The six ambassadors were hospitably received by Dandolo, the aged Doge
whom we have seen before, standing in full armour on the high poop of
his galley in the Sea of Marmora. Negotiations proceeded with all the
gravity warranted by the occasion, and before long the Doge was entitled
by the representatives of the Republic to make known the terms under
which Venetian aid could be secured. The Crusaders should assemble at
Venice on the feast of St. John in the following year. Preparations
could by then have been made for the conveyance of 4,500 knights and
their squires and horses along with 20,000 infantry, and during a term
of nine months they should be supplied with provisions, and transported
to whatsoever coast "the service of God and Christendom" should require.
The pilgrims should pay a sum of 85,000 marks of silver before their
departure, and all conquests by sea and land were to be equally divided
between the confederates. The republic agreed to join the armament with
a squadron of fifty galleys, and how valiantly they bore themselves was
revealed to us when we watched the naval pageant from the Asiatic coast
of the Sea of Marmora.
Notwithstanding the liberality displayed by the leaders of the Crusade,
the full amount due by agreement to the Venetians could not be raised,
so that astute Republic requisitioned the services of the Crusaders in
their own interests to reduce some revolted cities in Dalmatia. The
Crusaders sailed for Zara and regained that city for the Venetian
Republic. This led to some serious disagreement between the Venetians
and their pilgrim allies, and the Pope even went to the length of
excommunicating the victors of Zara. Pope Innocent had designs of his
own, only remotely connected with the object of the Crusade, and this
movement gave him a welcome opportunity of furthering his plans. He
intended to re-establish the power of the Vatican at Constantinople, and
fortune had placed a useful instrument in his power. In the camp of the
Crusaders was young Alexius, son of Isaac Angelus. Alexius III, when he
had deposed his brother Isaac, and deprived him of his eyesight,
allowed young Alexius to escape unharmed. The Catholic Princes, the
leaders of the Crusade, espoused the cause of the lawful heir to the
Eastern Empire, and as a reward for their services Alexius had promised
that he and his father would restore the supremacy of Rome over the
Eastern Church.
The Crusaders landed at Chalcedon, and from Scutari sailed into the
Golden Horn. The sentries on the wall saw these steel-clad warriors land
their gaily-caparisoned steeds from the flat-bottomed boats in which
they had crossed. What were their feelings when they saw 70,000 of their
own troops turn and flee, led by their Emperor, before the invaders had
found time to mount or couch their lances?
Then followed lengthy negotiations between the Latin camp and the Palace
of Blachernæ, then a siege, and swarms of Franks scaling the walls that
Manuel Comnenus built--and in the silence of the night that followed,
when the assailants had been beaten back, a whispered rumour ran along
the ramparts and grew into a sullen roar--the Emperor Alexius had fled.
The distance of time dims the awful realities that shook the foundations
of the Imperial City during the few centuries that passed before the
Turks made their
[Illustration: GATE OF THE BOOTMAKERS, OR THE CROOKED GATE.
Egri Kapoussi, formerly the Gate of Kaligaria--the bootmakers' quarter.
To-day this quaint old gateway is seldom used, the industry that gave it
a name is dead; dead warriors rest under the cypress-trees that throw
their slender shadows over the tortuous uneven path.]
victorious entry. As in a glass darkly we see the blind and aged Emperor
Isaac taken from his prison to occupy the throne for a short space, the
pathetic figure of his son Alexius, fourth of that name, who reigned not
a year, to die by the hand of an assassin. A shorter reign followed,
that of another Alexius, called Ducas, who in his turn made way for the
Crusaders, and a Latin dynasty ruled over the destinies of
Constantinople. Six Latin and four Nicæan emperors occupied the throne
of Cæsar for the brief period of sixty years, until in 1260 Michael
Palæologus restored the Empire of the Greeks.
Two gates pierce these walls, Egri Kapoussi, formerly the Gate of
Kaligaria--the bootmakers' quarter. No doubt in former days this gate,
so near the palace walls of Blachernæ, was much frequented. The walls
here were submitted to a determined attack during the last siege, but
the ordnance of that day was not able to effect a breach, and the guns
were removed to batter against the Gate of St. Romanus. To-day this
quaint old gateway is seldom used, the industry that gave it a name is
dead; dead warriors rest under the cypress-trees that throw their
slender shadows over the tortuous, uneven path that leads to this once
populous quarter.
The high walls and towers that guarded this place have seen other
watchers, who, with heavy hearts and weary, straining eyes, gazed out
into the darkness. For here Constantine IX and Phrantzes the historian,
his friend, saw the dawn creep up out of the East, lighting up the
Turkish camps and revealing the reason of those ominous sounds that had
disturbed the stillness of the night. One of those watchers never lived
to see another sunrise.
Passing fair is the view from this point. From immediately before the
walls the country fades away into the west in easy undulations, the
gentle curves of a distant ridge broken here and there by a cypress
taller than his upstanding fellows. Away where the Golden Horn, now
gleaming silver in the fading light, turns to northward to merge into
the sweet waters of Europe, the banks are dedicated to the dead, and
here again the sombre cypress keeps his watch. At the foot of the hill,
only its tapering minarets showing above the dense mass of foliage, is a
holy place of Islam, the Mosque and Sanctuary of Eyub occupying the site
of a church and monastery dedicated to SS. Cosmos and Damianus.
Bohemund, the Italo-Norman Count of Tarentum, lodged here while the
Crusaders negotiated with Alexius I. A gate led to this sanctuary and it
was named after a sheet of water by the Golden Horn, called the Silver
Lake.
The watchers on the tower above saw young Andronicus go forth with
hounds and falcons, to return with a rebel army behind him, and to fill
up that dark page of history we have already quoted. From here, again,
the sentinel would have reported the advent of John Cantacuzene with an
army, to reason sternly with the Empress Anna and the Admiral Apocaucus.
A plain, now overbuilt, stretched from the foot of these walls along the
Golden Horn. Here Crum, the Bulgarian king, whose barbaric rites we
witnessed at the Golden Gate, was asked to confer with the Emperor Leo,
the Armenian. The monarchs agreed to meet unarmed, but Leo intended
treachery, which Crum suspected, and he hastily withdrew; and though
pursued by the arrows of the ambushed archers, he escaped, wounded in
several places.
Another Bulgarian king, of whom mention has been made, met the Eastern
Emperor on this plain when Simeon and Romanus Lecapenus concluded peace.
Now let us proceed on the last stage of our journey down by these walls
of Manuel Comnenus into the plain. High and of enormous strength they
are still, for they form here the single line of defence; the ground
offered too many obstacles for the erection of an outer rampart, and the
highest point of which we are leaving behind us not even a moat was
possible. Some doubt exists as to whether the wall that leads down
towards the Golden Horn is of a piece with that of Manuel Comnenus. It
differs in construction, and bears many inscriptions relating to the
repairs which it needed. Thus the money which Irene, wife of Andronicus
II, left at her death, was devoted to these walls by the Emperor. John
VII Palæologus is responsible for other repairs, according to an
inscription, which reads as follows (being interpreted)--
JOHN PALÆOLOGUS
FAITHFUL KING
AND EMPEROR OF THE ROMANS
IN CHRIST, GOD,
ON THE SECOND OF THE MONTH OF AUGUST
OF THE YEAR 6949 (1441)
Perchance this was the last occasion on which the walls of
Constantinople were repaired, until the final siege of the city, when
Johannes Grant, a German engineer in the service of the Greeks, under
cover of darkness directed his workers to secure the portions of the
wall that had suffered most heavily under the fire of Turkish ordnance,
by such devices as were known in his day, and by the best of all
defensive methods, counter attack.
We reach the plain below, and find our attention
[Illustration: WALL OF PALÆOLOGIAN REPAIR.
Let us proceed--down by these walls. High and of enormous strength they
are still, for they form here the single line of defence; the ground
offered too many obstacles for the erection of an outer rampart, and at
the highest point which we are leaving behind us, not even a moat was
possible.]
drawn to yet another sombre mass of masonry, peculiar in design, for it
has the appearance of two towers joined together. They differ in
structure, for whereas one is built of carefully cut stones, and shows
courses of brickwork, the other is less regular, and from it here and
there marble pillars project like cannon. These are the towers of Anemas
and Isaac Angelus, and a counterfort, corresponding in structure to that
of the twin towers, juts out in front of them amid the long grass and
tangled undergrowth.
Isaac Angelus and his pathetic history are already known to us. Anemas
gave his name to the second tower because he is said to have been the
first prisoner confined within these gloomy walls. He was the descendant
of a Saracen Emir, who defended Crete against Nicephorus Phocas, and was
taken prisoner. Treated with unusual leniency for those times, he was
granted large estates in the neighbourhood of the capital. His son,
Anemas, was converted to Christianity, and distinguished himself in the
campaign of John Zimisces against the Russians, to fall in a personal
encounter with Swiatoslav, the Russian king.
But Michael Anemas, a scion of this family, was drawn into a conspiracy
against the Emperor Alexius Comnenus, and imprisoned in this tower. Anne
Comnenus the historian, and her mother, induced Alexius to remit the
sentence which condemned Michael Anemas and his brother to loss of
eyesight, and after some years they regained their liberty.
A formidable dungeon, this Tower of Anemas, with its narrow, vaulted
cells of enormous strength and its narrower passages. Others whom we
know languished here in chains, among these the Emperor Andronicus
Comnenus, who left this prison to die at the hands of his infuriated
subjects.
Another whom we have met, Andronicus, the son of John VI Palæologus, was
confined here by his father. He effected his escape, and in turn
imprisoned his father and his brothers Manuel and Theodore. Perhaps the
best that can be said of this rebellious son is that he did not act on
the advice of Bajazet and put his prisoners to death.
A gloomy history this strong Tower of Anemas tells us. A tale of civil
war, of tyranny, of deadly family feuds and the endless misery of human
weakness when it is invested with some transient semblance of external
power.
In strong contrast stands out that more rugged Tower of Isaac Angelus.
Here it is said the Varangians, Cæsar's bodyguard, had their
head-quarters, and through all the gloom that envelopes the history of
the later Greek empire, the conduct of those troops
[Illustration: TOWERS OF ISAAC ANGELUS AND ANEMAS.
A gloomy history this strong Tower of Anemas tells us. In strong
contrast stands out that more rugged Tower of Isaac Angelus.]
shines like a beacon light; the race these men sprang from was in its
infancy, and they brought to the service of the Eastern Emperor the
unspoilt faith and valour of a youthful nation.
The origin of the first Varangians is obscure; the name is derived from
a Teutonic source, fortganger, forthgoers, men who had left their
country in quest of adventure. There is reason to suppose that the first
Varangians to take service with the Eastern Cæsar were of that Norman
race who, so long hidden in the darkness of their northern home,
suddenly burst forth upon the world as pirates. Their sharp-prowed ships
first scoured the Baltic Sea, and landed these adventurous spirits on
the shores inhabited by Fennic and Slavonic races. Their arms and
discipline commanded respect, and by helping these Slavs against their
enemies inland, the Varangians obtained the mastery over a weaker race,
and gave it a succession of strong rulers. These in their turn adapted
themselves to their changed circumstances, and finally a Scandinavian
chief, Rurik, established a dynasty that ruled over the northern Slavs
for many centuries. His descendants in time became one with their
subjects and sought to check the recurring inroads of fresh Varangians.
The sword of these Corsairs had raised Vladimir to the throne; the
riches he had to offer in return for their services proved
insufficient, so they accepted his advice and sailed back the way they
came. They sallied forth out into the North Sea, and made their way to
warmer climates. After many encounters with the Moors and others who
followed the profitable calling of piracy, they found their way to the
city of Byzas and took service with the emperors of the East.
In time the fame of this warrior's Eldorado reached other northern
countries, and they too sent recruits to fill the gaps that constant
warfare had torn in the ranks of the Eastern Empire's vanguard, the
Varangians. So from England, so little known to the Eastern
contemporaries of William the Norman that it was held to be the mythical
island of Thule, came strong-limbed Saxons driven from their homes.
Danes, too, were found amongst this trusted body, and their weighty
battle-axes and stout hearts defended the declining Roman Empire until
its death agony on that fateful 29th of May, 1453. The shadows of night
are closing upon us, and here and there a light shines out through
latticed windows as we turn in towards the town. The day's work is done,
and here and there a figure moves silently along to disappear down some
dark alley. The narrow streets are almost deserted. This is the quarter
of the Phanar that we are now approaching. In former days a
lighthouse
[Illustration: OLD HOUSE IN THE PHANAR.
Here and there we may see an old house whose stout walls have resisted
all attempts at destruction.]
stood some way further on and guided the ships that had found their way
into the Golden Horn after sunset. Here and there we may see an old
house whose stout walls have resisted all attempts at destruction,
perhaps dating back to those days when the now ruined palace of
Blachernæ was a royal residence. Perhaps courtiers or high officers of
State lived here, but the barred window openings and grim-visaged walls
will not reveal their secrets.
We have come to our journey's end and must leave these lonely quarters
for those haunts frequented by foreigners. So we will walk down to the
shore of the Golden Horn. A caique is in readiness to carry us onward to
the bridge of Galata. Beyond it ships ride at anchor in the stream, or
are moored along-side the deserted quays. One or other of those ships
will carry our travellers back into the western seas, back to those
countries which owe their political existence to the walls that still
encircle the City of Constantine. The city looms black against the clear
sky of a southern night, and the crescent moon draws pale glints of
light from the pinnacles of slender minarets. Stamboul is wrapt in
darkness. On our left the lights of Galata and Pera shine out, where the
Western races take their pleasure after the day's work.
Behind us, by those frowning walls, a slight sound is borne upon the
night wind. Its voice whispers through the branches of the many
cypress-trees. It calls in gentle, insistent tones, and thousands answer
by obeying it. They come from out the shadows of the broken walls, they
move silently among the tumbled tombstones. Silently they mount the
ramparts and gaze with serene, far-seeing eyes, out over the sleeping
city. Greeks of all ages, Turks who fell before them, fearless Franks,
brave Normans, and stout-hearted Saxons, hold their nocturnal watch.
"The Oracle spoke true--the City prospers," whispers Byzas the founder.
"It is well!"
"The descendants of the people that I loved are happy and at peace,"
comes from John Comnenus. "It is well!"
"The Crescent shines upon the capital of a strong Empire--the sons of
Othman rule wisely," murmurs the Conqueror Mahomed. "It is well!"
The Frank looks back upon the part he played in the history of this
sleeping city. His deeds were not done in vain. "It is well."
A silent group looks out over the city. Britons who followed as captives
in the train of Theodosius, Normans who had camped outside the city
walls under the banner of the Cross, Saxons and Danes who had met them
in the field and on the ramparts with their battle-axes. They have
followed with eager eyes the history of those that came after them. They
saw the red cross of St. George's ensign float above the first ships
that Queen Elizabeth had sent here. They saw that flag extended to
denote the union of races that make up their nation, and watched it sail
away up the narrow channel of the Bosphorus to the Crimea. These shades
of departed Varangians, who fought till their last breath for an
expiring cause, for an Empire whose sons had lost the art of war, have
watched the rise of yet another Empire in the West in that dear land
they sailed from. They have followed closely the history of that Empire,
and a sigh goes from them, "Is it well?"
ENVOI
Gentle travellers! our journey is at an end, and nothing remains to
Author and Artist but the pleasant recollection of your company and the
kindly interest you were pleased to show.
The sun has risen upon another day, but that is no reason why the doings
of a previous one should be forgotten. The ships that bear our
travellers to sea, or maybe the train on the Roumelian Railway, will
soon break up a very pleasant party. So before we go let us ask you to
retain a kindly memory of this journey, and of the city walls that
suggested it. We ask it for a particular reason. A rumour is afloat, and
has not as yet been contradicted, that these old walls are doomed,
behind whose sheltering care Europe and the different nations to which
you belong worked out their destiny. But for these walls what might the
state of Europe be to-day? Wave after wave of Asiatic aggression here
spent its fury, until in time the nation that grew up within them lost
the power of defence, and accordingly ceased to be.
But these walls still stand, if only as relics of an historic and
romantic past. And they are doomed. Already the pick is at work upon the
Theodosian walls, near the Palace of the Porphyrogenitus. The object is
to sell the material in order to provide the army of the new Turkish
Empire with means of defence and offence. But these walls have served
their purpose, their stones have now no value but that to which their
history entitles them.
Fellow-travellers--it may not be too late, it may yet be possible to
save these landmarks that have led us through the maze of history and
Romance to the present day, where with the best intentions a vigorous
young government intends to inaugurate a new era by an act of vandalism.
The power of public opinion is great. Author and Artist suggest it as a
means of saving the walls of an Imperial city to their friends and
fellow-travellers--and so Farewell!
APPENDIX
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
[AUTHOR'S NOTE.]
In this table are set forth only the dates of events recorded while
glancing at the history of the "Walls of Constantinople." As the book
does not profess to be an exhaustive history of Constantinople, but
rather a reflection of the historic happenings these Walls have
witnessed--so this table aspires to do no more than guide the reader
through past ages with here and there a date as milestone.
B.C.
658. Byzas founded the city.
479. Pausanias defeated the Persians at Platæa.
450 (about). Xenophon born.
A.D.
306-337. Constantine I, the Great, to whom the
city owes its present name.
364-378. Valens, whose aqueduct still stands.
378-395. Theodosius I, the Great, who divided
the Roman Empire between his sons
Arcadius and Honorius.
395-408. Arcadius, in whose reign the Goths laid
waste Greece.
404. Eudoxia, wife of Arcadius, died.
408-450. Theodosius II, in whose reign the Theodosian
walls were built. The Greeks
fought with success against Persians
and Varani. Attila appeared before
the walls of Constantinople and forced
the Emperor to pay him tribute.
457-474. Leo I.
518-527. Justin.
527-565. Justinian I, the Great. Theodora, his wife.
545. Bertezena established Empire of Turks in
Tartary.
558. Turkish Embassy to Justinian.
610-641. Heraclius (who executed Phocas and succeeded
him).
622. Heraclius distinguished himself in the
Persian War.
626. Unsuccessful attempt of the Avari on Constantinople.
631-641. Arabs conquered Phoenicia, Euphrates
countries, Judæa, Syria, and all Egypt.
642. Constans obtains the throne.
650. Constans murders his brother Theodosius.
653. Arabs conquered part of Africa, Cyprus
and Rhodes.
668. Constans died at Syracuse.
669. Arabs attacked Constantinople.
685-695. Justinian II.
695-697. Leontius.
597-705. Tiberius (Apsimar).
705-711. Justinian II (restored by Bulgarians).
711-713. Phillipicus (Bardanes).
717-740. Leo III (the Isaurian).
740-775. Constantine V (Copronymus) wrested part
of Syria and Armenia from the Arabs;
overcame the Bulgarians.
779-797. Constantine VI.
797-802. Irene.
802-811. Nicephorus I forced to pay tribute to the
Arabs; fell in the war against the
Bulgarians.
811-813. Michael I (Rhangabe).
813-820. Leo V (the Armenian).
820-829. Michael II (put Leo V to death, 826).
Under his reign the Arabs conquered
Sicily and Crete.
842-867. Michael III (confined his mother Theodora
in a convent); he left the
government in the hands of his uncle
Bordas, and was killed by
867-886. Basil I (the Macedonian).
886-912. Leo VI (the Wise).
912-958. Constantine Porphyrogenitus (his mother
Zoe).
919. Romanus Lecapenus obliged him to share
the throne.
944. Constantine and Stephanus, sons of
Romanus I.
958-963. Romanus II.
963. Nicephorus II (Phocas) put to death
970. by John Zimisces, who carried on an
unsuccessful war against the Russians.
963-1025. Basil II (Bulgaroktonos) vanquished the
Bulgarians.
1025. Romanus III married Zoe and became
Emperor; she had him executed, and
raised
1034. Michael IV to the Throne.
1041. Michael V.
1042. Constantine X.
1042. Zoe and Theodora.
1056-1057. Michael VI, dethroned by
1057-1059. Isaac Comnenus, who became a monk.
1059-1067. Constantine XI (Ducas), who fought successfully
against the Uzes; Eudocia,
his wife, entrusted with the administration
1067-1078. Married Romanus IV.
1081-1118. Alexius (Comnenus); Crusades commenced
in his reign.
1118-1143. John II (Comnenus).
1143-1180. Manuel I (Comnenus).
1180-1183. Alexius II (Comnenus), dethroned by
Andronicus.
1183-1185. Andronicus I, dethroned by his guardian,
1185-1195. Isaac Angelus; in turn dethroned by his
brother.
1195-1203. Alexius III.
1203-1204. Alexius IV and his father Isaac restored
by Crusaders.
1204. Alexius V (Ducas)put Alexius IV to
death. Isaac died at the same time.
1204. The Latins conquer the city.
1204-1260. Latin Emperors (Baldwin I died in
captivity in Bulgaria).
1204-1260. Nicæan Emperors (they reigned at Nicæa
as Constantinople was in the hands of
the Latins).
1260-1282. Michael VIII (Palæologus) on restoration
of the Greek Empire.
1282-1328. Andronicus II, who denounced connection
with the Latin Church, which Michael
VIII had restored.
1288. Ertoghrul succeeded by Othman.
1341-1391. John VI (Palæologus).
1342-1355. John V (Cantacuzene).
1361. Sultan Amurath took Adrianople.
1376-1379. Andronicus IV (Palæologus) usurped the
throne.
1391-1425. Manuel II.
1396. Bajazet besieged Constantinople, and defeated
an army of Western warriors
under Sigismund near Nicopolis.
1402. Tamerlane's invasion of Turkish provinces
in Asia saved Constantinople.
1425-1448. John VII (Palæologus).
1444. Amurath II extorted tribute from John VII
1451. and died at Adrianople.
1448-1453. Constantine XII (Palæologus).
1451-1453. Siege of Constantinople.
1451-1481. Mahomed the Conqueror of Constantinople.
1481-1512. Bajazet II resigned in favour of
1512-1520. Selim I, who murdered his brothers,
proclaimed himself champion of Orthodoxy
and became the first Caliph.
1520-1566. Solyman I, the Great, contemporary of
Francis I of France, Charles V,
German Emperor.
1526. Campaigns against the Western nations;
Hungarians beaten at Mohacz.
1529. Buda-Pesth taken; siege of Vienna.
1537. Barbarossa, Solyman's admiral, conquered
combined fleet of Emperor, Pope and
Venetians off Prevesa.
1553. Mustapha, son of Solyman, executed in
presence and by order of his father,
through Roxalana's instigation.
1566-1574. Selim II.
1574-1604. Mahomed III; first English Embassy
sent to the Porte.
1617. Achmet I sends Embassy to France.
1618. Mustapha I reigned six months and was
deposed.
1644. Sir Thomas Bendish, English Ambassador
in reign of Ibrahim, obtained justice by
means of a drastic measure.
1683. Sultan Mahomed IV; siege of Vienna
raised by Sobieski.
1702. Turkey admitted into the European
system.
1707. Achmet III allied himself with Charles
XII of Sweden.
1769-1774. Panslavism.
1774-1792. Mustapha III. War with Catherine of
Russia. Suvarrov defeated the Turks--Azov,
Trebizona, Silistria and Shumea
taken by Russia. The Crimea taken
by Prince Potemkin.
1792-1815. Turkey involved in Napoleonic wars.
1815-1840. Greek rebellion. Battle of Navarino.
Czar Nicholas waged war with Turkey,
Kars and the Dobrutsha taken.
1854-1856. Crimean War.
1879. Russo-Turkish War.
1909. Abdul Hamid deposed and constitutional
Government introduced.
_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited London and Bungay._
* * * * *
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
Theodosias=> Theodosius {pg 49}
Comunenus=> Comnenus {pg 107}
encounted=> encountered {pg 208}
Prevosa=> Prevesa {pg 95}