A Wherefore, B the apostles will not sit on twelve thrones then only, according to the promise, judging the twelve tribes of Israel; but even now these men sit on many thrones, as it were certain judges, judging the world. And not only in the primitive Church, but even now, according to their own voice, they speak things intelligible to all. And outside, as I have said, the decrees and constitutions of the holy apostles go forth everywhere; and hither they flow together from every quarter, not only by a journey of many days, but even of months, with no one pursuing them, accusing themselves, as Plato in the *Gorgias* commands those who desire to become just to do, that they may fulfill the enjoined penalty by the work of those whose judgment they have accepted. For I say nothing of those who, by command, run from the farthest ends of the earth or are dragged against their will. Who indeed would not be astonished when he hears the Pope in a public consistory giving answers and uttering oracles? Who would not marvel when he sees these things? But why should I say more about these matters? C That, however, which I was saying concerning the relics of the apostles, how much they contribute to this city, may be seen from the Commentaries of Chrysostom on the Epistle of Paul to these very Romans, if I remember rightly, toward the end; where that man, truly golden not only in mouth but also in soul, concluding the whole discourse and that golden writing, as if stirred by a divine frenzy, twice or thrice and more often exclaims: "I would desire to see that city," meaning Rome, "in which these and other things concerning the apostles and the burial and presence of their bodies in it are reported," saying that he desired to see those feet, desired the hands, desired those heads. And he does not cease, like those who labor under an impotent love, to enumerate the individual members, and to say the same things a thousand times.
But let us now leave these things aside; for neither does the nature of a letter admit of so prolix a discourse, and whatever we may have said, we shall seem to have said nothing worthy of the subject. Moreover, I intended only to say a few things at the beginning, but I did not observe that I had exceeded the measure too far. Yet I wished to write these things as an appendix to my letters for the sake of amusing the mind, especially since in your letters to me I found this also laid down among other things, that I write too little. I am hastening, however, to send these letters, lest before they arrive at Venice, the triremes of that city shall have already departed. But indeed, in a matter of this kind, it is by far the most difficult thing to begin rightly and to end well; for the whole thing is defined by its extremities and receives its form from them. And as many do not know where to begin, so neither do they know where a limit should be imposed—those who, once they have begun, it is necessary should always speak. I, however, for such a length of time in this manner have kept silent before your Highness, that now having at last begun an oration, I can with difficulty cease quickly. But as you will pardon the silence of my interrupted oration in the past, so now you will pardon my loquacity. But since, when such matters have been set forth before you, a limit must necessarily be put, I do not wish, however, on that account, to D
commit an injury against our city. A I would, however, be doing it an injury if I were to end here. For seeing these things, as many as I have spoken of regarding the buildings and the natural beauties and those fashioned by hand, I marvel indeed at the ancient magnificence and power of the city, and I delight in these things—especially because I see that they are very similar to those among us. And that similarity alone, as you know, is naturally apt to stir us, when we see things that are very similar; especially when we observe a son to be like his father, or a daughter like her mother, or brothers like each other; and these all the more if they chance to be related to us in any way. B And I think that this also exists in the case of our own city—and this is no small thing, for it can stir a man, especially a patriot, who is sojourning away from his own people. For I think that no daughter was ever so accurately similar to her mother as that one is to this one. But even with things being thus (for I think there is no envy for a mother when a daughter is praised, just as conversely it is not right for a daughter to harbor envy when her mother is being praised), I consider our own to be the winner. C For I compare the ancient things as best I can. For what has been produced in that one, whether of natural or artificial works, that has not also been produced among us? And the remains themselves are similar to our remains. For if in some things that one seems to have the advantage, we have other things to set against these as well. And there are many things that have been and are among us, which you would not find in that one. And truly, very many have progressed to a better state. For naturally, that one, looking to no specific model at all, so to speak, was content with its superiority over all things simply; but this one, looking to that one as a model, and as if to an archetype—as it is possible to see accurately—has progressed in many things to a better and more brilliant state. D For the works of men, when competing with others, can advance to a better state; and the beauties of parents, for the most part, contribute to a better state in the beauties of their children, and magnitudes to magnitudes, especially, as we hear, in the case of mothers—not only among men, but now also among other living creatures. It is therefore no wonder that, being so great and accordingly so beautiful, it has given birth to a daughter greater and more beautiful; and this becomes praise for the mother herself. And the beauties of the mother increase those of the daughter; and it is not a case of comparing one with another, but in a way the same one with itself, namely, the New Rome with the Old. So it is not right for us to be unfair judges in such matters, especially for us who are heirs to both its goods and ours, being sons of the former and grandsons of the latter. But we ought rather to take pride in both, just as those who are accustomed to trace their nobility back to many, and can count not only parents who are great and beautiful, but also ancestors of such a kind, or perhaps even superior. And for parents, it is, as someone said, the work of a prayer to be surpassed by their children, so that it is right for us to harbor this suspicion in these matters. I say, therefore, that the mother is very beautiful and lovely, but the daughter is, by many degrees, the more beautiful; and it is not fitting that this one should call another the metropolis and mother,
A nor that the other should be called its colony and daughter; nor, as I said, that there should be such similarity between mother and daughter as there is in these. Rather, the beauty of this one has taken its increase from the other, like the kindling of a fire or a ray of light from elsewhere. For if we had nothing else to say, yet its situation with regard to both continents, I mean Europe and Asia, and the connection of both the northern and southern seas, so that it joins and at the same time divides the world and its nations as if by a common bond, situated as it were at the gates—who, I ask, would not deem this not only useful and beautiful, but also imperial? As for the harbor, which I believe surpasses all others anywhere in size and safety, capable of receiving all the triremes and merchant ships that have ever existed anywhere; and the fact that it is, so to speak, surrounded on all sides by sea and land, so that it is at once both mainland and island, and both inland and maritime; and the crown or circuit of its walls, which I know not whether in any respect it could yield to the Babylonian walls; and the density, size, and height of the towers therein, such that each one of them, even if it stood alone, would be able of itself to strike wonder into spectators as a whole structure in its own right—nay, B even the size, bulk, and structure of the steps alone by which one ascends them are worthy of admiration—and then the splendor of the walls, the gates, and the towers rising above them; and the outer defense in front of the walls, which alone would suffice as a secure fortification for another city; and then the excavation and structure of the moats, and their breadth and depth, and the abundance of water in them: so that in the only part where it was lacking, even there by this benefit it appears to be a maritime city; just as, conversely, where it is maritime, because of the neighboring islands it appears to adhere to the continent. So that, what someone said about the city of the Athenians—that it can be passed by sea, and circumnavigated, and traversed on foot—this city is even belted by a double circuit, and yet for all that, because of the abundance of water, it is maritime. I ask, what is left by which it could be surpassed by anyone? Nay, by what could any other city even approach it or be equal to it? And as for the interior of the city, it truly corresponded to the walls and to the model on which, as I said, it was founded in the beginning, and to the metropolis, and the mother, and the glory and power of its founders. C For the two most powerful and wisest nations, one of which at that time held the empire, and the other having held it a little while before, excelling in every kind of art and ambition and luxury—I mean the Romans and the Greeks—having joined their efforts, have fashioned this city, and they made use of the work and service of all other nations, and of their own people, in this endeavor. And in the beginning, they chose a site and ground for the city that was worthy of the impending city which they had conceived in their minds, and of the empire, so that by residing in it they might be able to manage the whole world conveniently. They chose it, therefore, not only for the government of the whole world, but also from every...
B consideration of what was fitting. And that they judged well is shown to us now by experience. Furthermore, they brought all the arts from everywhere for its embellishment; immediately the rich built sumptuously, the great magnificently, and the kings royally. For how could men who had come from such a city and such houses have lived uncomfortably and squalidly? And those who came after always imitated their predecessors, as usually happens with buildings. Nature, then, had prepared for them, even before the very gates, the marble island for their construction, as if she were not ignorant of what sort of city and by what sort of authors it was destined to be founded there, and she placed before them the materials and the preparation necessary for its beauty C and dignity. But they, being in no way content with white marble, and those variegated stones from Thessaly, Paros, and the Peloponnese, cared to have stones brought even from Arabia, Egypt, Libya, Marmarica, and from the very scorched region of the world for the building of this city; so that they immediately established houses that, on account of their size, could be entire towns. They also built temples of such a kind that one could hardly believe they were constructed by human art and by men—a matter which, when piety toward God is also brought to bear, was rightly done by them. For if the works of sacrilegious and impious men have been so many and of such a kind, what sort and how great ought those to be of them who worship the true God? And if such buildings were D constructed and offered to demons by those who served them, what monuments of gratitude ought to have been offered to the Savior for having liberated us from those same demons? But I pass over these things. I pass over the roofed and walled pathways that were once shown throughout the whole city, so that it was possible to pass through it entirely without mud or sun. I omit the monolithic columns, each of which could well constitute a tower or a fortress. I pass over the porticoes, the bases of statues, and the pyramids. I omit the multitude, size, and beauty of other royal buildings in different parts of the city, as well as the theaters, the military quarters, the courts, the circuses, the gymnasia, and the hippodromes; and further, the shipyards, the embankments of the walls and harbors, and the moats, and the defenses
A of the foundations and of the walls extending to the sea, and the stations suitable for receiving ships from any quarter; and even towers in the middle of the sea and in the deep ocean, and in the very vortex of the receding tides, and in these towers, fresh water. Beyond these, there are elevated and suspended aqueducts through the arches of the walls, which you could call aerial rivers, brought from more remote places at a distance of some days' journey, as they say; furthermore, through the excavated ridges of the intervening mountains. I also omit the reservoirs and cisterns in which those waters are first received—which for the water conduits serve as a sea or lake; some of which are covered by slabs and lie hidden from view, while others are open and exposed, and can be navigated by boats. Some of these now nourish the largest trees within their vaulted interiors, and others on their roofs, and take the place of fields and gardens for their neighbors. I omit the multitude of columns and vaults in those cisterns; then the other underground and excavated channels that render the whole city as if it were a suspended floor and hollow beneath; also the sewers and public passages: all of which are very numerous in this city. But what shall I say of the baths, the number of which, if I were to relate it, I would not find belief? And of the abundance of water, which is derived from springs through houses and publicly throughout the city? What of the suburbs? Which, if you look at their size, extend for some days' journey outside the city; if at their beauty, convenience, and equipment, they vie with urban buildings in every way. For from Abydos, and Sestos, and the Hellespont B as far as the Thracian Bosporus, and the Phana, and the Cyanean islands, whether from the side of Asia or of Europe, the circuit of the Propontis, and the islands situated around the city within it, and then also the horn of the harbor, and whatever extends from there to the Pharos—whoever has circled these would find they were continuous suburbs to this city. Whose temples and buildings (if anyone wished to enumerate them), a history—and that not a small one—would have to be written. And these suburbs themselves, in no small part, through what they call the Long Wall, extending from the lower sea to the upper sea and the Euxine Pontus, coalesce into one continuous city: which could constitute an entire province; for it embraces within itself solely in its magnitude as much as one might perhaps not easily find in all the others combined. The Long Wall itself, however, not only would it be rightly called long, but also a wide and high wall; C since it is of such a nature and so great, that even if it had been constructed indiscriminately from any stones whatsoever, and from the gravel of rivers and torrents, and from small rocks, it would certainly deserve admiration. But it consists of such a mass of stones, and is constructed with such art, that if it extended only a few fathoms, it would not undeservedly bring astonishment to those watching it; for it is more truly a mountain than a wall. To such a degree, indeed, that if it were suspended like a rope or beam, it would possess a thickness proportionate to its length: which is indeed required in those things D so that they do not break. Since, however, the wall
A and the other fortifications of the city, which I have mentioned, were constructed in the time of a powerful and mighty empire, those other works of that city were built for magnificence rather than for use. For the less the city stood in need of the magnitude of its walls at that time, by so much the more and greater were they encompassed; since they believed that the city first appeared through its walls, and from there received its name, and that these were built not for the present age alone but for all future time: in the course of which many things might happen to men, among which the envy of the many holds even the chief place, and then also the greatest changes of affairs come about, so that these might remain for as long as possible as proofs not only of the power of the founders, but also of their foresight regarding the future and their prudence.
But if I wished to commemorate the monuments, tombs, B columns, and statues of our city, which either exist even now or existed formerly, perhaps even here the material would not fail me; but although they are perhaps fewer in number than those there, yet I would commemorate some that are far more beautiful and more splendid than they. For what of the tomb of that emperor, the founder and guardian whom the city acknowledges? What of the neighboring monuments of the others in the place where the burials of the emperors are seen? A thing to be wondered at by the mere sight: of which not a few still survive around the church of the Holy Apostles; many also have already perished; others, too, exist here and there in the vestibules of churches. What, indeed, of the statue of that emperor who was the author of the laws? And how many other statues, if I remember rightly, on the other hand, in turn surrounded it, placed upon the greatest columns from the east? C But that there were very many other statues of this kind throughout the city, the bases of them and the inscriptions which are still seen show: of which some were in other places, but the most were in the Hippodrome; and I myself formerly saw other and many more, which I know have now been removed. There are those who even say that the column which stands on the Xerolophos, and the other one opposite to it, facing the sunrise on the hill which takes its name from the Bull, supported statues made of silver: of which indeed one was of the greater, the other of the lesser Theodosius, for by these names they are commonly distinguished. But how great, how precious, and how beautiful they must have been, is clear from the beauty, height, splendor, and magnificence of the bases. D Yet while I, revolving these things in my mind, was thinking of them, there came into my memory the gate of the city which once existed on the same road and in the same line towards the west; so wide that it could have received at its place whole towers or fortresses, if it were possible to move them, and merchant ships with their tackle and masts: then also the portico above it sparkling far and wide, and the magnitude of the marbles in the portico itself: as well as the column before the gate, which itself also once supported a statue. And furthermore, the pillar on the other hill, which overhangs the house in which you now dwell; as also those that exist in the Strategion; then the one which is seen to the right of the church of the Holy Apostles, and many other bases, were worthy of statues appropriate to them. For what should I say of the porphyry column to the east on the same square, again rising to a great height, which bears the cross, and which was fixed and established on the courtyard of the palaces of the great Constantine, all the statues
》A and indeed surpassing all other columns; for we have a great abundance of relief work, such as is seen on those columns carved all around, which were executed with the utmost precision in imitation of those that exist here. Yet those statues, which, made of porphyry stone, sit on seats at the crossroads—which some call the Agoranomia and the Principate—surpass that work. There is also another on the same street, a little above the head of the stream that flows through the city, made of white stone or marble, which seems to recline on its elbow. And there are many other things of this kind, which, though I have not seen them myself, I have heard exist in certain hidden places. For I omit those that are before the Golden Gate. But who could worthily admire this very gate and its marble towers, and the labors of Hercules, and the torment of Prometheus, and other such things expressed in marble with the highest and most admirable art? The reason why that city does not have more of these works is that it was founded at a time when even here these things lay neglected on account of religion. I believe that people then avoided the likeness of statues and signs; for who here would have made those things then, when those already existing here lay neglected? Yet they made and discovered others: tablets, I say, images, paintings, and tessellated or mosaic work, an art truly most beautiful and most durable. And here, indeed, such tessellated works are quite rare; they are certainly peculiar to Greece alone, or rather to that city; for if any such thing is seen here or in other places, it derived both its material and its art from there. I think that this also happened in the art of statuary; namely, that it began there and came hither, yet received admirable growth here: which perhaps one could affirm of many other things as well. B C D But I leave these things aside, as I said, and I pass over the other things, as many as one might call unspeakable and unsurpassable regarding that city; but that church—to which he who did well imposed the name of the Wisdom of God (for it is truly not a work of human wisdom)—when someone has beheld it, what other things thereafter can he commemorate, or admire, or of what others can he thereafter be mindful? For I think that neither has there been, nor will there ever be, anything similar created by human hands. Whence, even I, once I have made mention of it, will leave aside all discourse regarding such things. For it is not possible to say anything of it worthy of its dignity; and once you have made mention of it, it is not permitted to speak of anything else at all. For when you consider this in your mind, nothing else can be thought of. But of it, as I said, it is impossible to say anything worthy of its dignity; and if anyone were to begin to speak, he would be compelled to spend more time on this than on all the rest, and yet he would not say anything as befits it. But I will willingly concede this, yet by no means at the end of a speech, nor in passing, nor without a specific plan, as was to be said of the prior things. But if, neither immediately from the beginning, nor by a certain plan, nor when intending another plan, can we describe any part of that temple in words, in any case...
A shall we be able worthily to speak of even the smallest part or portion? For we cannot accurately describe the gates alone and the passages, nor the floor, nor the vestibules and the ornaments before the gates, nor the columns, nor the tessellated work, nor the marble incrustations of the walls, nor the glass, nor the brass expended therein, nor the lead, nor the iron, nor the sapphire, nor the gold, nor again the glass in the joints of the tesserae, nor any other part whatsoever. What then, might one say concerning the stones and the whole form, and the entire construction, and the breadth, and the height, and the roof? B Indeed, not only do we find ourselves unable to describe it as it is, but we are not even able to behold it; or rather, even while we look upon it, we do not believe how it stands. For just as we marvel at the sphere of heaven turning upon itself, so also do we wonder how that inimitable and celestial arch and roof was made in the beginning and how it has stood. And although the height of necessity abstracts much from the greatness of the view, or rather from the height itself; yet, as much as is visible seems like something immense and vast; so that one might marvel not only at such a mass C and such a structure, but also at those who, with no similar example proposed, conceived in their minds such a work, and thought it possible that the conception of their mind could truly be brought into act, and brought it to completion. I speak not only concerning the entire work in general, but I speak especially concerning the roof, which that architect was required to contemplate exactly as it is now—straight from the foundations, or rather even before the very laying of the foundations—and to have the confidence that it could be constructed; yet now, even when seen, it is disbelieved. It is likely that that man relied much upon the art and the D proportions according to it; and that he was highly skilled in geometry or mechanics. Yet why do I say this? For that work is something that can cause those who see it to marvel not only at his own ingenuity and that of the others who built it, but also at the ingenuity and greatness of the human race, and of this animal generally; because there is in it, by nature—as one would not have thought beforehand—an abundance of inventiveness, and greatness of mind, and dignity, and power. For I believe that none of the works made by human hands among men is near or equal to it. And many wonders of both nature and intellectual wisdom are shown in it. This work, then, being so great and such as it is, it is better to wonder at in silence; since it is able to make those who think upon it and look upon it senseless and speechless, even from the mere sight or memory of it; just as it happens that those who look toward the sun or toward anything that is brilliant are unable to see. And concerning the holy relics and the sanctified objects in that city, which are very many from
A the beginning, for they were gathered together with zeal from everywhere by the most august emperors, but again, from there, as if from a common source, many having been distributed everywhere, that many still remain even now, I believe no one at all is ignorant.
Letter II
B But that which remains, I would say concerning both cities, is this: that from this city, just as from our own, one may seek out both delight and benefit from the works of those ancients. It is possible to admire the works of men, and it is possible, conversely, to despise them and count them as nothing. For if anyone, looking at these things, were to ponder the empire and the power of Rome, and the dignity of those men, and their deeds, and their pursuits; and then were to see all those things to which they have come, so that not only they themselves, but their authority, and empire, and the cities themselves nearly died—for as someone says, "cities also die"—what then would he count these human affairs to be? How could he be puffed up if he were fortunate, or dejected if he were unfortunate? At what would he pride himself? What in human affairs would he count of great importance?
Frequently, when I cross these triumphal roads, I keep in mind the kings and princes and the others from Armenia or Persia or from other most remote regions, led as captives through this place. I think as well of the war leaders triumphing over them, and what their state of mind was, and what delight they perceived; and on the contrary, what the state of mind of those captives was. I think of the crowd of the city standing by and surrounding them, and the throng of those watching from above the houses; to this, the concert of instruments, the roaring, the acclamations and applause, and the delight of these men over a victory won in such distant regions, and on the other hand, the sorrow of those captives and their friends in their homeland over the defeat and such a spectacle, and the distinct condition of both sides as it was then believed to be; and how these seemed to others and to themselves most wretched and unhappy, while the others seemed happy and blessed. C But now all these things are equal; all are reduced to dust; and you would not know the fortune of Pompey or Lucullus any better than that of Mithridates or Tigranes.
Indeed, even the houses themselves, and the statues, and the buildings have been reduced to dust; these, to the extent that they still stand out, do so only in that the ground by which they are covered is not everywhere level, but rises into a mound. Many of the statues of these happy and blessed victors, together with their trophies and laurels, one may see cast down and wallowing in the mud and mire, some broken and rent asunder, not a few others providing the service of lime or plaster or even of stones for other buildings. But as for those to which a better lot has fallen, having lost their primal form—as Aristotle calls it—they serve as a step or stool for those mounting a horse, or as a wall base, or as an ass's or ox's manger; D mostly scattered, as I said, and broken. Other statues, thorns and brambles or shrubs spring up on all sides...
and mangled, as I said, and broken apart. Some are hidden by thorns and briars, or by bushes that have grown up and do not allow them to be seen. Countless others are buried under the earth before they can be placed in some bright and lofty spot, that they might be visible to the many, whether in the Capitol, or upon the Acropolis, or in the marketplace. And those who attained these—whether I speak of the deed or the embassy—thought they had met with great fortune. We know how Pindar speaks in his odes of those who were victorious at the Isthmus, or Nemea, or Olympia, proclaiming them godlike and blessed, for having deserved to be crowned with parsley, or oak leaves, or wild olive after so many and such great labors. But the honors of statues can in no way be compared with these; so much so, that whatever cities or men—whether they be princes, or private citizens, or even kings themselves—do not embrace true and divine virtue, all human things among them are truly vain: some bring delight, others consolation, and not a few bring pain. But I seem to myself to be in my own country; and in order that this impression may increase—that which is the greatest and most pleasant thing to me there, namely the sight of you and speaking with you—I contrive by whatever means I can, through frequent remembrance of you, and through letters written to you, and through the accounts of others concerning you, to bring you to myself; and for this reason, as you see, I have spoken at length to your Highness, both to others frequently and to you. And I think that those who toil for their country, whether they themselves manage the affairs or suffer adversity, will receive an eternal reward. Remember this reward, O Emperor. And may you yourself and your own people preserve that city which has become the best under the sun, and lead it toward prosperity. We too shall be partners and co-workers with you in the deeds and labors for its sake, as is fitting for loyal subjects to do for philanthropic and good lords, to the extent of their power. For this will be my greatest pleasure, whether I am present or absent, seeing or hearing, living or dead. But for now, O Emperor, forgive my prolixity. Farewell. B
Manuel Chrysoloras to Ioannes Chrysoloras, Greeting.
To me, Rome begins to seem more pleasant from the time I began to receive frequent letters in this city from my kin, and especially from you; just as I think it will also be a pleasure for you, if you receive from me letters sent from here. For first of all, the very name of the city, just as it once happened to me, rings pleasantly in the ears of the listeners. And how should we not both rejoice? I, to whom it is given, while living among foreigners—though in another city that shares the name of my homeland—to enjoy the sole consolation of epistolary commerce with my kin; and you, who receive from me the letters sent from this city? While I traverse this city daily, and now survey one thing and now another with my eyes, I seem to myself to be living in our own city, however far distant I may be from it. Whenever I ascend to some unaccustomed place, say some hill, from which this city of ours also is called the City of Seven Hills, and view the whole...
of it, I no longer imagine myself to be in Italy and Latium, but in the very place that gave birth to it. I look for our house to see in which part of the city it stands, and for the hanging garden within it, and for any other landmark of that place, and for our cypresses. I once heard it said that this city was modeled after that one, and now I see it accurately. For what is there in this city, to put it simply, that has not also come into being among us? Are there no temples, no porticoes? No hippodromes? No palaces? No theaters? And amidst these very things, are there no stones and columns that are conspicuous, where one wonders how they were originally hewn from the quarries, how they were transported, and how they were raised? Are there not all kinds of marbles, capable of being mirrors better than any other material? Are there no images, no stelai, no statues? No obelisks? Yet, in this—I mean in the number of stone statues, and the artistry concerning them, and the sepulchers of the ancients—it seems to surpass our own. Let us consider the art of the mosaics on the walls, and the beauty from them. Just as stone statues and relief-carved sarcophagi are rare among us, so in this city, most of these very statues and sarcophagi have come from Greece—works of Phidias and Praxiteles and their peers, as one can accurately see from the letters engraved upon them, which reveal the craftsman; so that, often seeing these, I have called to mind that saying of Synesius. In his letter to his brother, I believe—for I do not remember it well—writing from Greece and describing his arrival in Athens, he says after much else: "I saw the Lyceum; I saw the Stoa; I saw the Poikile, which was no longer the Poikile, for the proconsul had carried off the panels." I myself have seen there Greek letters of ancient origin engraved on the marbles, which anyone who saw them would say had been brought here from Athens and the rest of Greece. Thus I find six hundred Greek sculptures or inscriptions, such that even a tomb which bears a Latin inscription presents this verse in the Greek tongue: "Well done, Priscianus; no one is immortal." Add to this the tombs of matrons and freedwomen, which display the names of the long-famed stonecutters engraved in Greek lettering, concerning whom it would be long and absurd to discourse here at length. Truly, one reads in historical records that this city was once inhabited no less by Greeks than by Italians, who indeed know for the most part how to speak Greek, and thus, through this commonality of dialect, have brought it about that many Greeks have chosen this as their home. And because, eventually, the diversity of the race would have brought about trouble, especially when a union of both nations was a sought-after and essential thing—where, beyond the same customs, the same spirit and the same ambition bound everyone together! It is indeed sad to state and to believe that most people do not know that the Christian faith, common to both, was therefore the most ancient bond of all in this matter. But this is not the place or time for such a discourse. But I will say it again: Rome will please me in a wonderful way if I receive frequent letters from you, and it will be no less pleasing to you yourselves to read mine. Indeed, I am already fulfilling this duty, or rather I have fulfilled it most fully since I came here; but I also receive yours, which are not rare. Farewell.
γένει ; τί καὶ μετὰ τὴν ἐπιγενομένην οὐ τῶν ἠθῶν μόνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ψυχῶν καὶ τῶν δοξῶν ὁμόνοιαν, τοσούτων συναγόντων αὐτούς; Εἰ δὲ βούλει, τοσούτου πράγματος τῆς εἰς Θεὸν πίστεως αὐτοὺς συνάπτοντος ἀγνοεῖν ἔπεισεν ἀλλήλους. Καὶ τοῦτο δὲ αὐτὸ τοὺς πλείστους ἀγνοεῖν αὐτῶν, ὅτι ἤνωνται ἐν τοῖς μεγίστοις, ὄντως ἄξιον στενάξαι. ᾿Αλλὰ περὶ τούτων μὲν οὐ τοῦ παρόντος καιροῦ λέγειν. “Ο δὲ ἔλεγον, ἐμοί τε γλυκίων ἡ ᾽Ρώμη πάντως φανήσεται, συχνὰ παρ' ὑμῶν γράμματα δεχομένῳ· καὶ ὑμῖν ἡδονὴν ἕξει, ἐντεῦθεν ἐμοῦ ἀκούουσι διαλεγομένου. Τὸ μὲν οὖν ἐμὸν αὐτὸς ἤδη ποιῶ, καὶ πεποίηκε δὲ ἐξότου δεῦρο ἀφῖγμαι, διὰ πολλῶν. Ἐκδέχομαι δὲ καὶ τὰ παρ' ὑμῶν ἤδη διὰ πολλῶν. Ὑγίαινε.
A
III. Μανουὴλ Χρυσολωρᾶς Δημητρίῳ Χρυσολωρᾷ, ἀνδρῶν ἀρίστῳ καὶ περιφανεστάτῳ, χαίρειν.
Ἄρα δύνασαι πιστεῦσαι περὶ ἐμοῦ, ὡς ἐγὼ τὴν πόλιν ταύτην περιών, κατὰ τοὺς ἐρωτολήπτους τούτους καὶ κωμαστὸς τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς ὧδε κἀκεῖσε περιφέρω, καὶ τοὺς τῶν οἰκιῶν τοίχους εἰς ὕψος, καὶ τὰς ἐν αὐταῖς θυρίδας περιεργάζομαι, εἴ τί που τῶν καλῶν ἴδοιμι παρ' ἐκείναις; Τοῦτο γὰρ νέος μὲν ὤν, ὡς οἶσθα, οὐκ ἐποίουν, καὶ τοῖς ποιοῦσιν ἐμεμφόμην. Νῦν δὲ ὠμογέρων ἤδη γενόμενος, οὐκ οἶδ' ὅπως εἰς τοῦτο ἐξηνέχθην. Αἴνιγμά σοι δοκῶ λέγειν· ἄκουε δὲ τὴν λύσιν τοῦ αἰνίγματος καὶ τῆς ἀπορίας· ἐγὼ γὰρ οὐ ζώντων σωμάτων κάλλη ἐν ἐκείνοις ζητῶν τοῦτο ποιῶ, ἀλλὰ λίθων, καὶ μαρμάρων, καὶ ὁμοιωμάτων. Φαίης ἂν ἴσως τοῦτο εἶναι ἀτοπώτερον ἐκείνου, καὶ ἐμὲ δὲ πολλάκις τοῦτο λογίσασθαι ἐπῆλθε· τί δήποτε ἵππον μὲν ἢ κύνα λέοντα καθημέραν ζῶντα ὁρῶντες, οὐ πρὸς θαῦμα ἐγειρόμεθα, οὐδὲ τοσοῦτον αὐτὰ ἀγάμεθα τοῦ κάλλους, οὔτε μὴν τὴν ὄψιν αὐτῶν περὶ πολλοῦ ποιούμεθα, οὐδὲ δένδρον, ἢ ἰχθύν, ἢ ἀλεκτρυόνα, ταὐτὸ δὲ καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἀνθρώπων, τινὰ δὲ αὐτῶν καὶ μυσαττόμεθα, ἵππου δὲ εἰκόνα ὁρῶντες, ἢ βοὸς, ἢ φυτοῦ τινος, ἢ ὄρνιθος, ἢ ἀνθρώπου, εἰ δὲ βούλει μυίας, ἢ σκώληκας, ἢ ἐμπίδος, ἢ τινὸς τῶν αἰσχρῶν τούτων, σφόδρα διατιθέμεθα ὁρῶντες τούτων τὰς εἰκόνας, περὶ πολλοῦ ποιούμεθα. Καίτοι οὐ ταῦτα δήπου ἀκριβέστερα ἐκείνων, ἄγε παρὰ τοσοῦτον ἐπαινεῖται, παρ' ὅσον ὁμοιότερα ἐκείνοις φαίνεται. B Ἀλλ' ὅμως ταῦτα μὲν καὶ τὰ τούτων κάλλη παρατρέχομεν παρ' ὄντα, ταῖς δὲ ἐκείνων εἰκόσιν ἐκπληττόμεθα· καὶ τὸ μὲν τοῦ ζῶντος ὄρνιθος ρύγχος ὅπως εὐφυῶς κέκαμπται, ἢ τὴν ὁπλὴν τοῦ ζῶντος ἵππου οὐ πολυπραγμονοῦμεν· τὴν δὲ χαίτην τοῦ χαλκοῦ λέοντος, εἰ καλῶς ἤπλωται, ἢ τὰ φύλλα τοῦ λιθίνου δένδρου, εἰ τὰς ἶνας παρεμφαίνει, ἢ τὴν τοῦ ἀνδριάντος κνήμην, εἰ τὰ νεῦρα καὶ τὰς φλέβας ὑποδείκνυσιν ἐπὶ τοῦ λίθου, τοῦτο τοὺς ἀνθρώπους τέρπει, καὶ πολλοὶ πολλοὺς ἂν ἵππους ζῶντας καὶ ἀκεραίους ἀσμένως ἔδωκαν, ὥστε ἕνα λίθινον τὸν Φειδίου ἢ τὸν Πραξιτέλους, καὶ τοῦτον εἰ τύχοι διεῤῥωγότα καὶ λελωβημένον ἔχειν. Καὶ τὰ μὲν τῶν ἀγαλμάτων καὶ ζωγραφιῶν κάλλη οὐκ αἰσχρὸν θεᾶσθαι, μᾶλλον δὲ καὶ εὐγένειάν τινα τῆς θαυμαζούσης ταῦτα διανοίας ὑποφαίνει· τὰ δὲ τῶν γυναικῶν κάλλη ακόλαστον καὶ αἰσχρόν. Τί δή τούτου τὸ αἴτιον; Ὅτι οὐ σωμάτων κάλλη θαυμάζομεν ἐν τούτοις, ἀλλὰ νοῦ κάλλος τοῦ πεποιηκότος. Ὅτι καθάπερ κηρὸς καλῶς διαπλασθεὶς ἂν ἔλαβε διὰ τῶν ὀμμάτων ἐπὶ τοῦ φανCερῶς, καὶ οὕτω τοῦ περιέχοντος ἡμᾶς ἀέρος, καὶ D πρὸς τὴν τῆς ψυχῆς διάνοιαν ἦλθε, καὶ ἐκεῖνον αὐτῆς ἀπεμάξατο τὸν τύπον, οὕτω καὶ ὁ τεχνίτης, ὡς ἐκ τοῦ νοῦ τὸ κάλλος λαβὼν τῆς ἐμφύτου τέχνης, ὁμοῦ τε τῇ χειρὶ καὶ τῷ ἐργαλείῳ τὴν ὕλην διαπλάττει.
which are opposed to these, in raw matter. This, therefore, seems to us most wonderful in these works; and indeed if anyone contemplates in those natural things the former and the works themselves, which are beautiful and attest to the keenness of human genius, he will be greatly amazed. For to embrace such things with ardor is true philosophy; for these hold the first place according to virtue and wisdom. The sight of such things moves us, and models of this kind, when they are intact and according to reason, ought to be referred to a creative mind more than the causes of natural things. And if in these the excellence of the author is manifested, who uses pre-existing matter however he pleases; how much more does the excellence of that divine mind shine forth, which produces matter itself and the forms of things, and causes our mind to fashion the forms of things and thus produce external ones? But why, finally, do I say these things to you, who have known them better than I myself? But, as I have already said, this city can move the soul with such and other more divine examples; and as for the discipline of character, we see that the study and ambition of the men who are observers—such as architects, bankers, governors, and magistrates—proceed very prosperously, yet in the end sink into nothing, unless God through the faith of others leads us to a better state of things, which, if we are of sound mind, we shall be able to admire more and esteem more highly. Farewell.
ANNO DOMINI MCDXXII. JOANNES CANANUS. NOTITIA.
(H. Warton in supplement to Cave *De scriptoribus ecclesiasticis*, p. 84.)
Joannes Cananus, by nation a Greek, a Byzantine historian, flourished in the year 1422. He wrote a history of the siege of the city of Constantinople by Amurath II, king of the Turks, in the year 1422, begun on the 10th of June and ended on the 24th of August. This history exists in Greek and Latin, interpreted by Leo Allatius, at the end of Georgius Acropolita. Paris, 1654, folio.
JOANNES CANANUS: NARRATION OF THE WAR IN CONSTANTINOPLE
OF THE WAR WHICH OCCURRED IN CONSTANTINOPLE IN THE YEAR 6930, WHEN AMURAT-BEY FELL UPON IT WITH A HEAVY FORCE AND ALMOST TOOK IT, HAD NOT THE MOST HOLY MOTHER OF THE LORD GUARDED IT.
A It is good to keep secret the secret of a king, but glorious to proclaim the works of God, as the angel said to Tobias. This same thing now urges and emboldens me, and makes me a daring herald to recount the most admirable miracle of the Most Holy One. Yet the ignorance of my speech holds me back, while again the desire — that human passion — pulls me and drags me forward. I am defeated, and I confess my defeat, and from these things I begin my history. I ask those reading this, even those experienced in letters, neither to be bored by the weariness of my speech nor to condemn my solecistic and barbaric phrasing, since I myself confess the weakness of my lack of education. But I have not written these things for the wise or the learned, but for laymen and simpletons, as I myself am a layman, so that simpletons, after the manner of simpletons, might read this carelessly and without seeking occasion to blame me. For all these reasons, I became a bold writer and herald, and I have recorded, to the limit of my ability, the universally celebrated and acclaimed miracle of the Most Holy Virgin, as well as the irruption of the Hagarenes against us and the siege of the city; and from these things I began.
In the thirty-second year of the reign of the emperors Manuel Palaiologos and his son John, in the year 6930, in the fifteenth indiction, on the tenth day of the month of June, a Tuesday, at the second hour of the day, a Saracen army again suddenly raided against us, numbering ten thousand men, under the leadership of a mad and bloodthirsty man named Michal-Bey. B It immediately broke in, and in a moment ravaged all the cities and the whole region subject to the imperial C power, and despoiled us of all the goods and places around this city, destroying some things and taking others as booty.
B Some of the men he gave over to death, while others he drove far away beyond Iconium and Aratzapetas Cyphas, and having subjected the women to every kind of impurity and base act, each man abused them as much as his lust dictated; they offered up boys to be circumcised for Maometh; they slaughtered and utterly destroyed all animals, both those born to bear the yoke and those that were unyoked. And as for the loss of the crops and the destruction of the vineyards, what person or what language could ever track it down? For immediately as the city began to be blockaded, they made a surprise attack and shut us in, and everything outside fell under their dominion. But how, and whence, and for what cause this calamity, and destruction, and these most grievous and cruel things befell the unfortunate and wretched Romans, I have thought it better to pass over in silence, but it is necessary to relate the outcome of that most bitter battle and most horrible conflict. C For the first corps of those Muslims, as we have said, rushed upon us on the tenth day of June and shut us in; and on the twentieth of the same month, another host of Muslims appeared—like a cloud full of hail and a ruinous storm—and they darkened the whole land that was subject to the Romans, and like a flame of lightning, they burned and scorched everything. Every fruit-bearing tree and every tree bringing forth lush and rich fruit, as well as the stocks of the vines, they uprooted, and they committed every other cruel and ruinous act against us.
Finally, their primary commander and the emir and master of them all arrived. He came raging, infuriated, proud, swollen with pride, blown up, and boastful. Raising his eyebrows toward heaven, he thought he surpassed everyone, and he suspected that everything was governed by him, and in short, he thought the whole world was subservient to him; D indeed, he was confident that with the many machines and other things most necessary for war that he had brought, he would be able to shatter a part of the city wall, and from there bring it into his dominion, lead the Romans into captivity, and extinguish the name of Christ. Supported by countless phalanxes of armies and crowded with every race of nations, and relying on a most numerous multitude of both infantry and cavalry, he covered all those regions.
Then, by the command and exhortation of the Turkish leader Murat-Bei, a rampart was built—surpassing many others and those of the greatest size; for it extended from one end of the city, namely the gate of Chrysia, to the other end, toward the Wooden Gate, being no more than a bowshot from the walls, valiantly constructed on all sides and most secure, protected in its front part by huge beams, thick planks, and interwoven branches and wickerwork, so that it might receive the arrows shot by the Romans from bows and crossbows, and the stones of the bombards. And in the rear part of this rampart, as he had commanded, soldiers of every kind chosen from this army remained, being bold and brave, both to defend the rampart as was the custom, and to be defended by it, and to wage the battle from there while standing behind it with crossbows, bows, and other machines, both small and huge, which had been brought for this purpose in nearly countless numbers.
Those massive engines, upon which they pinned their hopes of shattering the city walls and thereby capturing the city, they placed with great care in a spot where the trench was not like the others, but was broken down and had long been filled with earth; and opposite this, by chance, a tower was found that was very rotten and cracked from top to bottom. The Turks expected that the stones from their largest bombards would shatter that rotten tower, and since the trench at that place offered the Turks no obstacle, they would reach the outer fortress unimpeded, drive the Romans from the breach, and enslave the city. But the expectation of the impious came to nothing, for after seventy shots from that huge cannon had struck that rotten tower, it caused no harm to the Romans, nor any advantage to the Turks. For the place, both the trench and the tower, was near the church of Saint Cyriaca, between Saint Romanus and the gate of Charsius, and closer to the river called the Lycus. So much, then, for the failure of the bombards. B But as for the other engines of war—all those various things constructed for the siege of the city and the destruction of the Romans—who could possibly recount them all? Yet I shall recount a few of the many. At that time, they constructed many huge wooden towers on wheels bound with iron, as high as the towers of the city, and even higher. They had countless yokes of oxen and buffaloes in readiness to pull these towers with ropes and bring them to the trenches when there was need, so that with them they might crush and break down the fortifications of the city's outer wall. Furthermore, they fashioned falcones, tortoises, arcudamaxae, and many other wooden devices and most clever mechanical works; they built helepoleis (siege engines), mechanical grappling hooks with small wheels, and a vast number of large and medium-sized shelters. Opposite the gates of the city, they also constructed huge, monstrous machines, namely wooden fortresses of the largest possible size, resting on iron-bound wheels, such that those who saw them, being ignorant of the violent ways of besieging cities, were struck with stupor and terror, even though no actual benefit came from them. Others, tunneling into the ground behind their ramparts, sank deep down so that, by a subterranean passage underneath the earth, they might creep, unseen by night by the Romans standing and fighting above, and reach the walls of the great, main fortress of the city. There, having secretly hollowed it out, they would shore it up with wooden props, then set them on fire with torches; once the wooden apparatus supporting the fortress had been burned away, the city walls would suddenly collapse, and thus the Turkish army would immediately and boldly charge the Greeks, and by that ruin, having put the enemy to flight, would take possession of the city. Others assiduously searched for the conduits which in ancient times brought water into the city's cisterns, so that if the chance should arise, they might enter the city secretly by night, take the unsuspecting citizens by surprise, and overcome them in servitude.
A city would also fall, and immediately the Turkish armies could boldly attack the Romans, and through that breach pursue them and take the city. Others searched for the conduits that had long ago brought water into the cisterns of the city, so that they might find one of them, and secretly, at night, by that conduit enter the city, and unexpectedly capture and enslave it.
But the lord of the Turks also sent heralds everywhere, and they proclaimed thus, and swore that the Emir would hand over the wealth of the city and all its people for plunder and spoils to the Muslims, and that they should obtain the gain. He said these things, but with such a ruse so that all the armies of the Muslims might be gathered, as indeed happened then. For as the report spread to the nations of the Muslims that the city had been surrendered for plunder and captivity, they swarmed for the gain from almost every land and race of Muslims, not only those experienced in plunder and war, but also the inexperienced and the tradesmen—that is, merchants, money-changers, perfumers, and shoemakers—but even many Turkish monks. For this reason all gathered: the soldiers for the plunder, the tradesmen to buy the plunder (that is, the captives), and some [bought] the women, others the men, others the infants, and others the animals, and others the goods, while the Turkish monks [sought] our nuns as gain and plunder to be received as a favor from the lord of the Turks.
Because of this expectation, countless multitudes from every land of the Muslims were gathered, so that all who looked upon the throng of the army were astonished. Then too, they collected such an innumerable quantity of arrows that we at first disbelieved the rumor of it until the hour of the battle, when we learned by experience to believe it. And in this way that abundance was provided: every house of every person B who was under the power and dominion of the Turks, whether he lived in the East or the West, gave ten to twenty bow-arrows. And even more than these flew when the battle began, which the Turkish arsenal and the quivers of the army contained.
He also carried with him at that time the emperor's envoys, tied in miserable fashion with iron, whom he himself had requested for the purpose of initiating peace and a treaty. But then, like a cruel and merciless barbarian, he had cast them into custody in iron chains, and had condemned the innocent as if they were guilty, threatening them even with death, offering a pretext that was very foolish indeed. For he said: "Because the Greeks addressed me impudently and irreverently, for that reason I cast them into prison and chains."
But then also a certain one of the Muslims, C tall and great of body and terrible among them because he was of the lineage and family of Muhammad, [appeared]. They honored this man as a patriarch and revered him as a prophet, and showed him worship equal to that of Muhammad. This man possessed such authority among them that he snatched the virgin daughter of the Emir and lord D of the Muslims, having taken her against his will.
A And he kept her in his bedchamber and on his couch, and no one dared to rebuke him or say anything to him. But the emir, the girl’s brother, even said, “The cohabitation of the patriarch, who is a kinsman of Muhammad, has sanctified her, and what is born of her shall be holy, as if from the blood of Muhammad, according to the law and sanctification of the Rasull Mahomet.”
This greatest and highly regarded man among them, this noble patriarch whom they considered a seer and prophet, named Mersaita in the Persian dialect, sent messengers from Prusa, where he had chosen his dwelling, to the lord of the Turks, saying, “Beware, do not engage in battle with the Romans, lest you destroy your army and the people of the Muslims, until I arrive and declare the hour of the conflict of battle, as the great Prophet Rasull teaches us. And I know this, as I am a seer and a prophet.” B Hearing these things, the lord of the Turks obeyed his commands and awaited the false prophet. After a few days, he arrived. Mersaita, the patriarch of the Turks, came with five hundred Turkish monks, sitting upon a mule, most arrogant in his appearance and terrible in his grandeur. The multitudes of the Muslims ran out to meet him, and those foolish tribes of the Turks received him as if he were an angel descended from heaven, and they were not only kissing his feet and hands, but even the bridle and the feet of the mule upon which he was riding. C In the same way, the lord of the Turks also received him in a servile manner. He, however, appeared grave and haughty to all. Yet, puffed up and prideful, as one who was high and great and of the lineage of Muhammad, he received them with difficulty, and spoke these words: “Know, Muslims—and you yourself, lord of all these people—I have been sent by the great Prophet Rasull Mahomet to tell you the hour of battle, as I am both a seer and a prophet, so that we may enslave the Romans and capture their city. Prepare yourselves for this until the hour arrives that I know.” D Having said these things, he descended from the mule upon which he was riding and entered a tent made of patchwork, and he began to read the books of Muhammad and to perform his Ramplia. He did this with hypocrisy, so that the Turks would be deceived and worship and praise him as a prophet, just as the lord of the Turks and all the Muslims held all that he had spoken to be true and certain, and they all awaited his command so that he might decree the hour of battle, and they might all rush to take the city and take all the Romans captive. This vain and empty hope filled the Turks with great boldness, daring, and joy at that time, and from then on they rejoiced and lived luxuriously; indeed, day and night they clapped their hands and awaited the voice of Mersaita as if he were a most truthful angel about to capture the Greeks.
A Indeed, day and night and every hour they sharpened their tongues against us like a two-edged sword, and uttered wild and inhuman voices shamelessly and insultingly. Not only did they send the most shameful taunts against patriarchs and emperor, but they also boldly reproached and shamelessly blasphemed against our faith, saying: "Where is your God, you benighted Romans? Where is your Christ? Where are your saints to help you? Tomorrow we shall take the city, and we shall have you as captives and slaves, and your wives and your children we shall dishonor before your eyes, and we shall betroth your nuns to our Turkish monks. By our faith, in truth, our prophet says so." The impious ones held these things as certain and acknowledged facts, and for this reason they wickedly heaped these insults upon our God.
When at last the final day of the Turkish war arrived, which the great Mersaita, their prophet, had predicted for them, he said to the leader of the host and prince of the Muslims: "Do not delay any longer, but quickly command the ranks to arm themselves, and to have every machine and thing necessary for war ready so that they may be prompt; thereafter, they should gather near the city to within a bowshot of the fortress. And let this be the signal which I command: B When you see me sitting upon a high horse and observe a naked sword in my right hand, and hear my voice three times, then with shouting and clamor and fury and noise and instruments, attack the Romans; and of their own accord the walls of the city will fall, and with no one to stop you, go within and take it captive." These babblings the Mersaita, as if they were certain and acknowledged truths, spoke while haranguing the Muslims, as one who possessed the prophecies of Muhammad and the books of the Apostle Mahomet.
So much for what he said. The commander and prince of the Turks, having fulfilled the command and ordered every rank to arm itself and to bring every apparatus of war into their hands, the multitudes of the Muslims and all the armies immediately fulfilled what was ordered, and with weapons of every kind and the greatest preparations and most ingenious engines, they stood in order. Some carried ladders—ladders of every sort, small and large—others carried stakes, others beams, others fire with fire-pots, others C firearms, others huge iron implements, all encased in iron, others wicker shields, others paving-shields, others iron hooks and every war implement, protected on all sides by strong iron armor and huge helmets. The number of soldiers had increased to such an extent that they occupied everything from one end of the Golden Gate to the other, the Xyloporta. Those in charge of the Turk's war arranged the phalanxes in order near the fortress, as the false prophet had predicted. They commanded all those innumerable archers to shoot their arrows all at once over the fortress and the ramparts, so that with some of the Greeks wounded and killed, others might turn away in fear and abandon the walls. Hence, the opportunity would be theirs D to ascend with no one to hinder them, and to capture the city. In the meantime, the multitude of the Greeks, observing the warlike deeds and preparations of the Turks, as well as the abundance of the army from innumerable nations, the onslaught of the Tartars and the boldness of the Muslims, and the things that a little
A while before had been done—that the Turks had killed Romans within the ditches and others before the gates—they were greatly disheartened, and the majority were contemplating flight. O that most bitter hour! O intolerable sorrow! O greatest despair! Who did not shudder on that day? Who did not tremble at that hour, seeing the Romans shaken by such fear and the Muslims fortified with such confidence? And who, even if fearless, did not stand aghast? Who, even if noble, did not recoil? I do not mean death, for it is natural, but the destruction of this great city, the enslavement of the race, the dishonor of women, the violation of the chaste, the circumcision of boys, the ruin of the temples, the mockery of the holy icons, the conversion of the wisdom of the greatest God into a hymn of praise for Muhammad B and into a dwelling-place of demons and a mosque of the Prophet and Muhammad. But what was worse and more harmful, and a thousand times more evil than the worst death, was the subversion and destruction of the pious faith of the Christians in favor of the worship of the Muslims and the circumcision of Muhammad. O hour worthy of the greatest lamentation, O irresistible tempest! Who among us did not join in bewailing the groans then? What ear could bear to hear, what eye to witness such a spectacle? For in such great and severe straits, we had no one to help, or to stir us up, or to encourage us, since one of the emperors was worn out by disease and old age and could neither take up arms nor mount a horse, but lived inside the palace and did what he could according to his strength, while the other mounted a horse, armed as was fitting, went out through the gate of Saint Romanus, and stood there near C the gate.
When the hour arrived which the impious Mersaites awaited—which was one in the afternoon—he mounted a tall and mighty horse, and the five hundred men accompanying him, those Turkish monks, so that they might have the nuns of the city as booty and plunder, chanted praises to Muhammad in the Persian dialect and offered auspicious prayers for Mersaites. They did this three times, until he himself should advance to the battle. Furthermore, they carried an enormous shield before him, contrary to custom, so that because of it, the foolish-wonder-loving nations of the Muslims might show the greater admiration for that Mersaites. When he himself came close to the ranks of the Muslims, he shouted loudly, "Rasul, Rasul Mahomete!" And having drawn his sword and spurred on his horse, and having cried out D to the ranks, "Alatancry Rasul Mahomete," simultaneously, the whole multitude of the Muslims shouted with him, and with an onslaught and a clamor and
with A instruments and a thousand other outcries and trumpets, they reached the walls of the fortress from the Xyloporta as far as the Golden Gate, in that same one hour of that day. And they carried every war instrument in their hands, and they reached the walls, they set up ladders, they climbed up to the fortress, they pierced the towers. And no one was found who could hinder them, because of the very great fear and cowardice that had seized the Romans. For who did not tremble at that hour? Who did not shudder at this sight? What ear could endure the hearing, what eye the sight? For in a single moment of time, myriads of darts, that is to say, arrows, B were shot down upon the Romans, and they fell upon the walls of the city and inside, so that they covered the air and obscured the very light of the sun, and fear possessed us all and cowardice struck us with panic, and for a little while we hid ourselves. But not for long; rather, we stood behind the battlements. And when the Turks saw the fortress stripped of men, they supposed it was undefended, and with very great boldness they all rushed against us. And some climbed up the fortress with ladders, others with those anchors which we call hooks. Others pierced the towers with crowbars, others threw down the fortress with levers, others burnt the doors of the outer enclosure, and the impious conducted every bold and audacious C feat so as to strike us with terror. Seeing these things, the unfortunate and desperate Romans came to themselves, and having turned their thoughts to how and from whence—since they had no help from elsewhere—they might find someone to rouse and urge on the people against the Turks in that most terrifying hour. And having recovered themselves, they are roused to bravery and boldness. For those who before were timid and fugitives and prone to the onslaughts of the enemy, suddenly were found to be bold and noble warriors, and sturdy, and despisers of wounds and of shameful injuries and of every kind of death. And with the help of the most holy Virgin, strengthened in boldness, they rush sword in hand against the impious, and with stones, and as if a swarm of bees D disturbed by smoke, one after another is stirred up, and the whole tribe and every age stands up, and each one with whatever weapons he could, others even without weapons, others with swords and shields. Others, for whom such things were not at hand, used the boards upon which they ate, and the drum-heads of vats tied with ropes, in place of shields. Some went into battle even without these, and fought against the enemy with stones only, boldly and manfully, just as if they were protected with various kinds of armor. Thus one with another, and individually among themselves, they contended spiritedly, and exhorted one another to the most vehement fight: "Come, O friends! O brothers! O citizens! Let us fight today. Let us avenge liberty for ourselves, for our wives, for our children, for the blood of our country and of this great city, and—what is more—for the true faith of the Christians. Let us cast ourselves into danger for our own sake. For if we do not face death now, will life not be bitter hereafter? Let us make this necessity appear as a pursuit of honor: let us run into the peril of war, just as the martyrs hastened to the arenas of tyrants." By saying such things, one exhorted another, all contended and strove, just as those sated and soaked with wine, and by common agreement, simultaneously from one end of the city
to the other, with one voice, impulse, and cry, they rushed upon the enemy. A most violent war having been joined, and a most stubborn battle having raged for a considerable time, many from both sides were wounded and died. But the dauntless spirit of the most manly and noble Romans struck fear into the Musulmans and drove them back. Those who had ascended to the outer fortification with the ladders had their heads cut off and brought to the emperor, while the other Musulmans who were piercing the fortification and the towers were butchered within the very holes. Other proud and swollen swarms of Turks they finished off with wounds, put to flight, and plundered their war instruments and engines. And not only the soldiers and those skilled in war did these things, but also the leaders of the commonwealth, those learned in the affairs of the country, the entire common people, the companies of priests and monks, the best of the high priests, and the most holy of the spiritual ascetics, and men from foreign lands appeared fearless, noble, and disdainful of blows, B wounds, and death. Nay, even many women, putting on manly courage during that most terrible hour of war, did not hide themselves, nor as women were they struck with fear; but rather, at that very time, they reached the outer fortification, and some carried stones onto the wall for the Roman combatants, encouraged them, and urged them toward the conflict and the war. Others held eggs and tow, and tended the wounded; others brought water and wine to refresh those parched with thirst from the war; others kept their own true brothers, children, and spouses from climbing down from the walls of the fortification and ceasing from the war, but told them to fight the Turks fearlessly, unshakenly, and boldly. They themselves also walked there with attention and order. And they campaigned among themselves, one exhorting and instructing another: "Beware," she would say, "that you do not approach the great fortification, for the arrows of the Turks are thick there and infest that area. Let your path turn toward the outer fortification, so that protected by it you may act safely." Among these, some were wounded by blows of weapons, but that did not strike fear into the others, so that they would retreat into the fortification; rather, they exhausted all their strength in that fight until they beheld the end of the war. C When, furthermore, the light of the sun began to incline toward the west, and the Romans stood unshaken for the most terrible battle against the Turks, and contended manfully, the impious, blocked by them, achieving nothing, laden with disgrace and defeated with the greatest infamy, turned shamelessly and fled. And it is known that their war instruments and machines which pro- [text continues]
were near the fortress, which they were unwilling to abandon to the Romans in their flight, they set on fire; those that were further away, they surrendered to the fire. And this seemed a prodigy and an unusual deed: how they who previously carried themselves proudly and boasted, were suddenly found to be sorrowful and useless, and how those who previously intensely desired war with the Romans, unexpectedly fled from them. B And indeed, in truth, this work was sent invisibly by divine power. The Romans, seeing this, were amazed at the miracle, and rejoiced at the flight of those enemies, and rejoicing said: “O sweetness of this day and hour! O admirable and unhoped-for change! O unexpected joy! O clarity! O delight, which cannot be expressed in words, and whatever you might say will be less!” With these voices, those Romans, celebrated in many struggles, rejoiced together, leapt up, eagerly clapped their hands, and clearly gave thanks to God, and sent up hymns to the most holy Virgin, and from their soul, glorifying, they said: “This miracle, abundant in hymns, most famous, memorable, extraordinary, unusual, and admirable, is truly and without any doubt of the most holy Virgin.” And testimonies to this are available to us from witnesses beyond any exception, as the pious laws prescribe, of the elders: for testimonies which are held from enemies are more worthy of belief. Since our enemies and adversaries have confirmed this with their own testimony, this miracle of the most holy Virgin is most true. For Mersaita, the patriarch of the Turks, asserted that the city was then destined for them for plunder, just as the learned men of the Persians, in the age of Mahomet, had calculated, and they had found that in this year, month, and day and hour, the city was to be conquered by them; and it was to happen entirely by the power of the stars and the art of the astronomers. But that woman, clad in violet garments and walking upon the fortress and the battlements fearlessly during the hour of battle, she thwarted the powers of the stars and the art of the astrologers. Yet she did not have power from earth or from men, but from heaven and invisible power. C Similarly, the entire army of the Turks confirmed under oath that statement of Mersaita, and they recounted to all that at the hour of battle, after they had arrived at the walls of the fortress with audacity and an impetus that could not be checked, so that they might ascend and rout the Romans and capture the city, they then saw a woman wearing violet robes and walking upon the battlements of the outer fortress. And having seen her, immediately darkness, a storm, fear, and trembling seized them all, and they gave themselves to flight and not to war; and by the power and influence of that woman, terror was sent into them and the city was liberated. These things, moreover, were accomplished in the year six thousand nine hundred and thirty, in the month of [the year's end is missing].
seeing darkness, and confusion, and trembling, and fear suddenly entering the souls of all, and they looked to flight, and not at all to battle, neither to might nor to art. For they took of that woman the cowardice, and the city was set free. And these things happened at the time of the six thousand nine hundred and thirty-third year, the twenty-fourth day of August, on a Monday, the seventh hour of the day. And of the Turks, there were wounded and killed more than a thousand; but of our own people, in truth, there were wounded fewer than a hundred, and there died no more than thirty. And rejoice, O friends, rejoice both for the freedom of the city, and for the nobility and courage of the Romans, and for the most wonderful miracle of the All-Holy Lady; and praise her, give glory to her, and send up hymns of thanksgiving for the greatest work of deliverance which we have been granted by the glorious and ever-virgin Mother of our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ. To Him be glory unto the ages. Amen.
ANNO DOMINI MCDXXV.
MANUEL PALEOLOGUS. HISTORICAL NOTICE.
(Henr. Warton. in supplem. ad Cave De script. eccles. pag. 52.)
Manuel II Palæologus, third-born son of the Emperor John V Palæologus, merited the empire through his rare piety toward his father. For when the father John, leaving his eldest son Andronicus as prefect in Constantinople, was setting out for the West in the year circa 1380 to seek aid from Christian princes against the increasing might of the Turks, and upon returning was detained at Venice by merchants on account of an unpaid usurious debt, Andronicus, secure in his hold on the empire, laughed in his heart at his father’s captivity. Manuel, however, having scraped together money from his prefecture of Thessalonica, hastened to Venice and, clearing the merchants’ ledgers, redeemed his father. Encarcerated by the villainy of Andronicus, the Emperor John, delivered by the piety of Manuel, disinherited him along with his son John, designated the latter as his successor in the empire after his death, and acknowledged him as an associate while he was yet alive, in the year circa 1384. Andronicus, driven to frenzy by such ignominy, fled to Bajazet, king of the Turks; and, aided by his auxiliary forces, he took Constantinople by storm, consigned his father and brother to prison, and usurped the empire. After three years spent in prison, John and his son Manuel escaped safely and, using the favor and assistance of the tyrant Bajazet—who had long since become hostile to Andronicus—they recovered the empire and committed Andronicus to the Turks to be led away into perpetual imprisonment. In the year [1391] when his father John had died, Manuel began to reign alone thenceforth: and since he steadfastly defended the majesty of the empire against the ferocity of Bajazet, he immediately suffered a ten-year siege of the royal city. Having entrusted the care and defense of the city to John, the son of his brother Andronicus, he himself sailed to the West to obtain aid from the Latins, following his father's example; he also suffered a father's misfortune. For after he had traversed Italy, Gaul, England, Germany, and Pannonia, he finally returned to Constantinople with his mission unaccomplished. When the affairs of Constantinople were almost desperate, salvation shone forth from another quarter. For with Tamerlane, prince of the Tartars, flying as an aid to Manuel with a huge army, Bajazet raised the siege in the year [1402] and, in the battle joined the following year with the Tartars, he was defeated and led away as a captive. When the tyrant was extinguished, Manuel entered into a perpetual peace with his son Mahomet; and he held the empire securely thereafter. He died, as some hold, in the year 1418, but more correctly in 1425, after having handed over the lamp of the empire in the year [1419] to his son John, being infirm with old age.