Two new comers joined the party at Corinth, where, crossing the
isthmus on horses, they re-embarked. One was Giustiniani, a Genoese,
of commanding form and noble features, the very type of chivalric
gentility, bronzed by journeyings under various skies, and scarred
with the memorials of heroic soldiership on many fields. The other was
a Dacian, short of stature, with broad and square forehead, and a
crooked neck which added to the sinister effect of his squinting eyes.
"Well, Urban," said the Genoese, "you still have confidence in your
new ordnance, and think that saltpetre and charcoal are to take the
place of the sword, and that every lout who can strike a fire will
soon be a match for a band of archers:--Eh!"
"Yes, Sire, and if the emperor would only allow me a few hundred
ducats, I would cast him a gun which, from yonder knoll, would heave a
stone of five talents'[65] weight, and crash through any galley ever
floated from the docks of Genoa or Venice. Four such guns on either
side would protect this isthmus from a fleet. But, I tell you, noble
Giustiniani, that without taking advantage of our new science, the
emperor cannot hold out long against the Turk. The Turk is using
gunpowder. He is willing to learn, and has already learned, what the
emperor will find out to his cost, that the walls of Constantinople
itself cannot long endure the battering of heavy cannon."
"You are right, Urban," replied the Genoese. "The Turk is also ahead
of us in the art of approaching citadels. I have no doubt that his
zigzag trenches[66] give the assailant almost equality with the
besieged in point of safety. I will gladly use my influence at the
court of Byzantium in behalf of your scheme for founding large cannon,
Urban; if, perchance, the defence of the empire may receive a tithe of
the treasure now squandered in princely parades and useless
embassages."
The galley glided smoothly through the little gulf of Ægina, with its
historic bays of Eleusis and Salamis. Giustiniani and Urban discussed
the disposition of the Greek and Persian fleets during the ancient
fight at Salamis, as they moved under the steep rocky hill on which
Xerxes sat to witness the battle. They soon rounded the headland,
opposite the tomb of Themistocles, and anchored in the harbor of the
Piræus.
This port of Athens was crowded with shipping. There were Spanish
galleasses like floating castles, with huge turrets at stem and stern,
rowed by hundreds of galley slaves. Other vessels of smaller size
floated the standard of France. Those of the maritime cities of Italy
vied with one another in the exquisite carving of their prows and the
gaiety of their banners.
The chief attention was centred upon a splendid galley of Byzantium,
whose deck was covered with silken awnings, beneath which a band of
music floated sweet strains over the waters. This was the vessel of
the imperial chamberlain, Phranza, who, having been entertained in
Athens with honors befitting his dignity, was now about to return to
Constantinople.
Giustiniani ordered his galley alongside of that of the chamberlain,
by whom he was received with distinguishing favors. Constantine took
this opportunity to deliver, through the Genoese, Scanderbeg's letters
to Phranza. They were read with evident gratification by the
chamberlain. With a hearty welcome, not devoid of some curiosity on
his part, as he scrutinized the appearance of the strangers, he
invited Constantine and his companion to complete their journey in his
galley.
Morsinia was at first as much dazed by the splendor, as she was
mortified by her ignorance of the formalities, with which she was
received. But the natural dignity of her bearing stood her in good
stead of more courtly graces: for these modern Greeks emulated those
of ancient times in the reverence they paid to womanly beauty. The
chamberlain was somewhat past middle life. He was a man whose studious
habits, as the great historian of his times, did not dull his
brilliancy as the master of etiquette. Nor had his astuteness as a
statesman been acquired by any sacrifice of his taste for social
intrigues. The diversions from the cares of state, which other great
men have found at the gaming-table or in their cups, Phranza sought in
studying the mysteries of female character; admiring its virtues, and
yet not averse to finding entertainment in its foibles. A true Greek,
he believed that physical beauty was the index of the rarer qualities
of mind and heart. He would have been a consenting judge at the trial
of that beautiful woman in the classic story, the perfection of whose
unrobed form disproved the charge of her crime. He was such an ardent
advocate of the absolute authority of the emperor that, though of
decided aristocratic tendencies, he held that no marriage alliance,
however high the rank of the bride, could add to the dignity of the
throne: indeed, that beauty alone could grace the couch of a king;
that the first of men should wed the fairest of women, and thus
combine the aristocracy of rank with the aristocracy of nature. He had
frequent opportunities to express his peculiar views on this subject;
for, among the problems which then perplexed his statecraft, was that
of the marriage of the emperor--that the succession might not be left
to the hazard of strife among the families of the blood of the
Palæologi. Had the choice of the royal spouse been left entirely in
his hands, he would have made the selection on no other principle than
that adopted by the purveyor of plumage for the court, who seeks the
rarest colors without regard to the nesting-place of the bird.
The genuine politeness of the courtier, together with Morsinia's
womanly tact in adapting herself to her new environment, soon relieved
her from the feeling of restraint, and the hours of the voyage passed
pleasantly. Her conversation, which was free from the conventionalities
of the day, was, for this very reason, as refreshing to Phranza as the
simple forms of nature--the mountain stream, the tangles of vines and
wild flowers--are to the habitués of cities. There was a native poetry
in her diction, an artlessness in her questions, and a transparent
honesty in her responses. Indeed, her very manner unveiled the
features of so exalted and healthy a mind, of a disposition so frank
and ingenuous, of a character so delicately pure and exquisitely
beautiful, that they compensated many fold any lack of artificial
culture. The great critic of woman forgot to study her face: he only
gazed upon it. He ceased to analyze her character: he simply felt her
worth.
But no fairness of a maiden, be she Albanian or Greek, can long
monopolize the attention of an elderly man whose swift vessel bears
him through the clustering glories of the Ægean. Nor could any awe for
his rank, or interest in his learned conversation, absorb Morsinia
from these splendors which glowed around her. They gazed in silence
upon the smooth and scarcely bending sea, which, like a celestial
mirror, reflected all the hues of the sky--steely blue dissolving into
softest purple; white mists transfused by sunset's glow into billows
of fire; monolithic islands flashing with the colors of mighty agates
in the prismatic air; clouds white as snow and clear cut as diamonds,
lifting themselves from the horizon like the "great white throne" that
St. John saw from the cliffs of Patmos yonder.
Crossing the Ægean, the voyagers hugged the old Trojan coast until off
the straits of the Hellespont. They lay during a day under the lee of
Yeni Sheyr shoals, and at night ran the gauntlet of the new Turkish
forts, Khanak-Kalesi and Khalid-Bahar, at the entrance to the Sea of
Marmora. Two days later there broke upon the view that most queenly of
cities, Byzantium, reclining upon the tufted couch of her seven hills,
by the most lovely of seas, like a nymph beside her favorite fountain.
The galley glided swiftly by the "Seven Towers," which guard on
Marmora the southern end of the enormous triple wall. The bastions and
towers of this famous line of defenses cut their bold profile against
the sky for a distance of five or six miles in a straight line, until
the wall met the extremity of the Golden Horn on the north; thus
making the city in shape like a triangle--the base of gigantic
masonry; the sides of protecting seas.
Gay barges and kaiks shot out from the shore to form a welcoming
pageant to the returning chamberlain. With easy oars they drifted
almost in the shadows of the cypress trees which lined the bank and
hid the residences of wealthy Greek merchants and the pavilions of
princes. The lofty dome of St. Sophia flashed its benediction upon the
travelers, and its challenge of a better faith far across the
Bosphorus to the Asiatic Moslem, whose minarets gleamed like
spear-heads from beside their mosques. From the point where the Golden
Horn meets the strait of the Bosphorus and the sea of Marmora, rose
the palace of the emperor, embowered in trees, and surrounded with
gardens which loaded the air with the perfume of rarest flowers and
the song of birds. Rounding the point into the Golden Horn, the grim
old Genoese tower of Galata, on the opposite bank, saluted them with
its drooping banner. They dropped anchor in the lovely harbor. Strong
arms with a few strokes sent the tipsy kaiks from the galley through
the rippling water to the landing. An elegant palanquin brought the
wife of Phranza to meet her lord. Another, which was designed for the
chamberlain, he courteously assigned to Morsinia; while Constantine
and the gentlemen of the suite mounted the gaily caparisoned horses
that were in readiness. The chamberlain insisted upon Morsinia and
Constantine becoming his guests, at least until their familiarity with
the city should make it convenient for them to reside elsewhere.
FOOTNOTES:
[65] A modern Greek talent weighs 125 English pounds.
[66] The present art of "slow approach" was an invention of the Turks.