_punctiuncula_, to break up a joint-stock adventure, or society,
as civilians term it, which, if profitable to him, had at least
promised to be no less so to me, established in years and learning and
reputation so much his superior. Moved by which, and other the like
considerations, I resolved to proceed with becoming caution on the
occasion, and not, by stating my causes of complaint too hastily in the
outset, exasperate into a positive breach what might only prove some
small misunderstanding, easily explained or apologized for, and which,
like a leak in a new vessel, being once discovered and carefully
stopped, renders the vessel but more sea-worthy than it was before.
About the time that I had adopted this healing resolution, I reached
the spot where the almost perpendicular face of a steep hill seems to
terminate the valley, or at least divides it into two dells, each
serving as a cradle to its own mountain-stream, the Gruff-quack, namely,
and the shallower, but more noisy, Gusedub, on the left hand, which, at
their union, form the Gander, properly so called. Each of these little
valleys has a walk winding up to its recesses, rendered more easy by
the labours of the poor during the late hard season, and one of which
bears the name of Pattison's path, while the other had been kindly
consecrated to my own memory, by the title of the Dominie's Daidling-
bit. Here I made certain to meet my associate, Paul Pattison, for by
one or other of these roads he was wont to return to my house of an
evening, after his lengthened rambles.
Nor was it long before I espied him descending the Gusedub by that
tortuous path, marking so strongly the character of a Scottish glen. He
was easily distinguished, indeed, at some distance, by his jaunty
swagger, in which he presented to you the flat of his leg, like the
manly knave of clubs, apparently with the most perfect contentment, not
only with his leg and boot, but with every part of his outward man, and
the whole fashion of his garments, and, one would almost have thought,
the contents of his pockets.
In this, his wonted guise, he approached me, where I was seated near
the meeting of the waters, and I could not but discern, that his first
impulse was to pass me without any prolonged or formal greeting. But as
that would not have been decent, considering the terms on which we
stood, he seemed to adopt, on reflection, a course directly opposite;
bustled up to me with an air of alacrity, and, I may add, impudence;
and hastened at once into the middle of the important affairs which it
had been my purpose to bring under discussion in a manner more becoming
their gravity. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Cleishbotham," said he, with
an inimitable mixture of confusion and effrontery; "the most wonderful
news which has been heard in the literary world in my time - all
Gandercleuch rings with it - they positively speak of nothing else, from
Miss Buskbody's youngest apprentice to the minister himself, and ask
each other in amazement, whether the tidings are true or false - to be
sure they are of an astounding complexion, especially to you and me."
"Mr. Pattison," said I, "I am quite at a loss to guess at your meaning.
_Davus sum, non Oedipus_ - I am Jedediah Cleishbotham, Schoolmaster
of the parish of Gandercleuch; no conjuror, and neither reader of
riddles, nor expounder of enigmata."
"Well," replied Paul Pattison, "Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, Schoolmaster
of the parish of Gandercleuch, and so forth, all I have to inform you
is, that our hopeful scheme is entirely blown up. The tales, on
publishing which we reckoned with so much confidence, have already been
printed; they are abroad, over all America, and the British papers are
clamorous."
I received this news with the same equanimity with which I should have
accepted a blow addressed to my stomach by a modern gladiator, with the
full energy of his fist. "If this be correct information, Mr.
Pattison," said I, "I must of necessity suspect you to be the person
who have supplied the foreign press with the copy which the printers
have thus made an unscrupulous use of, without respect to the rights of
the undeniable proprietors of the manuscripts; and I request to know
whether this American production embraces the alterations which you as
well as I judged necessary, before the work could be fitted to meet the
public eye?" To this my gentleman saw it necessary to make a direct
answer, for my manner was impressive, and my tone decisive. His native
audacity enabled him, however, to keep his ground, and he answered with
firmness -
"Mr. Cleishbotham, in the first place, these manuscripts, over which
you claim a very doubtful right, were never given to any one by me, and
must have been sent to America either by yourself, or by some one of
the various gentlemen to whom, I am well aware, you have afforded
opportunities of perusing my brother's MS. remains."
"Mr. Pattison," I replied, "I beg to remind you that it never could be
my intention, either by my own hands, or through those of another, to
remit these manuscripts to the press, until, by the alterations which I
meditated, and which you yourself engaged to make, they were rendered
fit for public perusal."
Mr. Pattison answered me with much heat: - "Sir, I would have you to
know, that if I accepted your paltry offer, it was with less regard to
its amount, than to the honour and literary fame of my late brother. I
foresaw that if I declined it, you would not hesitate to throw the task
into incapable hands, or, perhaps, have taken it upon yourself, the
most unfit of all men to tamper with the works of departed genius, and
that, God willing, I was determined to prevent - but the justice of
Heaven has taken the matter into its own hands. Peter Pattison's last
labours shall now go down to posterity unscathed by the scalping-knife
of alteration, in the hands of a false friend - shame on the thought
that the unnatural weapon could ever be wielded by the hand of a
brother!"
I heard this speech not without a species of vertigo or dizziness in my
head, which would probably have struck me lifeless at his feet, had not
a thought like that of the old ballad -
"Earl Percy sees my fall,"
called to my recollection, that I should only afford an additional
triumph by giving way to my feelings in the presence of Mr. Paul
Pattison, who, I could not doubt, must be more or less directly at the
bottom of the Transatlantic publication, and had in one way or another
found his own interest in that nefarious transaction.
To get quit of his odious presence I bid him an unceremonious good-
night, and marched down the glen with the air not of one who has parted
with a friend, but who rather has shaken off an intrusive companion. On
the road I pondered the whole matter over with an anxiety which did not
in the smallest degree tend to relieve me. Had I felt adequate to the
exertion, I might, of course, have supplanted this spurious edition (of
which the literary gazettes are already doling out copious specimens)
by introducing into a copy, to be instantly published at Edinburgh,
adequate correction of the various inconsistencies and imperfections
which have already been alluded to. I remember the easy victory of the
real second part of these "Tales of my Landlord" over the performance
sent forth by an interloper under the same title; and why should not
the same triumph be repeated now? There would, in short, have been a
pride of talent in this manner of avenging myself, which would have
been justifiable in the case of an injured man; but the state of my
health has for some time been such as to render any attempt of this
nature in every way imprudent.
Under such circumstances, the last "Remains" of Peter Pattison must
even be accepted, as they were left in his desk; and I humbly retire in
the hope that, such as they are, they may receive the indulgence of
those who have ever been but too merciful to the productions of his pen,
and in all respects to the courteous reader's obliged servant, J. C.
GANDERCLEUCH, _15th Oct._ 1831.
COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS.
CHAPTER THE FIRST.
_Leontius_. - - - - That power that kindly spreads
The clouds, a signal of impending showers,
To warn the wandering linnet to the shade,
Beheld without concern expiring Greece,
And not one prodigy foretold our fate.
_Demetrius_. A thousand horrid prodigies foretold it:
A feeble government, eluded laws,
A factious populace, luxurious nobles,
And all the maladies of sinking states.
When public villany, too strong for justice,
Shows his bold front, the harbinger of ruin,
Can brave Leontius call for airy wonders,
Which cheats interpret, and which fools regard?
IRENE, _Act I_.
The close observers of vegetable nature have remarked, that when a new
graft is taken from an aged tree, it possesses indeed in exterior form
the appearance of a youthful shoot, but has in fact attained to the
same state of maturity, or even decay, which has been reached by the
parent stem. Hence, it is said, arises the general decline and death
that about the same season is often observed to spread itself through
individual trees of some particular species, all of which, deriving
their vital powers from the parent stock, are therefore incapable of
protracting their existence longer than it does.
In the same manner, efforts have been made by the mighty of the earth
to transplant large cities, states, and communities, by one great and
sudden exertion, expecting to secure to the new capital the wealth, the
dignity, the magnificent decorations and unlimited extent of the
ancient city, which they desire to renovate; while, at the same time,
they hope to begin a new succession of ages from the date of the new
structure, to last, they imagine, as long, and with as much fame, as
its predecessor, which the founder hopes his new metropolis may replace
in all its youthful glories. But nature has her laws, which seem to
apply to the social, as well as the vegetable system. It appears to be
a general rule, that what is to last long should be slowly matured and
gradually improved, while every sudden effort, however gigantic, to
bring about the speedy execution of a plan calculated to endure for
ages, is doomed to exhibit symptoms of premature decay from its very
commencement. Thus, in a beautiful Oriental tale, a dervise explains to
the sultan how he had reared the magnificent trees among which they
walked, by nursing their shoots from the seed; and the prince's pride
is damped when he reflects, that those plantations, so simply raised,
were gathering new vigour from each returning sun, while his own
exhausted cedars, which had been transplanted by one violent effort,
were drooping their majestic heads in the Valley of Orez. [Footnote:
Tale of Mirglip the Persian, in the Tales of the Genii.]
It has been allowed, I believe, by all men of taste, many of whom have
been late visitants of Constantinople, that if it were possible to
survey the whole globe with a view to fixing a seat of universal empire,
all who are capable of making such a choice, would give their
preference to the city of Constantine, as including the great
recommendations of beauty, wealth, security, and eminence. Yet with all
these advantages of situation and climate, and with all the
architectural splendour of its churches and halls, its quarries of
marble, and its treasure-houses of gold, the imperial founder must
himself have learned, that although he could employ all these rich
materials in obedience to his own wish, it was the mind of man itself,
those intellectual faculties refined by the ancients to the highest
degree, which had produced the specimens of talent at which men paused
and wondered, whether as subjects of art or of moral labour. The power
of the Emperor might indeed strip other cities of their statues and
their shrines, in order to decorate that which he had fixed upon as his
new capital; but the men who had performed great actions, and those,
almost equally esteemed, by whom such deeds were celebrated, in poetry,
in painting, and in music, had ceased to exist. The nation, though
still the most civilised in the world, had passed beyond that period of
society, when the desire of fair fame is of itself the sole or chief
motive for the labour of the historian or the poet, the painter or the
statuary. The slavish and despotic constitution introduced into the
empire, had long since entirely destroyed that public spirit which
animated the free history of Rome, leaving nothing but feeble
recollections, which produced no emulation.
To speak as of an animated substance, if Constantine could have
regenerated his new metropolis, by transfusing into it the vital and
vivifying principles of old Rome, - that brilliant spark no longer
remained for Constantinople to borrow, or for Rome to lend.
In one most important circumstance, the state of the capital of
Constantine had been totally changed, and unspeakably to its advantage.
The world was now Christian, and, with the Pagan code, had got rid of
its load of disgraceful superstition. Nor is there the least doubt,
that the better faith produced its natural and desirable fruits in
society, in gradually ameliorating the hearts, and taming the passions,
of the people. But while many of the converts were turning meekly
towards their new creed, some, in the arrogance of their understanding,
were limiting the Scriptures by their own devices, and others failed
not to make religious character or spiritual rank the means of rising
to temporal power. Thus it happened at this critical period, that the
effects of this great change in the religion of the country, although
producing an immediate harvest, as well as sowing much good seed which
was to grow hereafter, did not, in the fourth century, flourish so as
to shed at once that predominating influence which its principles might
have taught men to expect.
Even the borrowed splendour, in which Constantine decked his city, bore
in it something which seemed to mark premature decay. The imperial
founder, in seizing upon the ancient statues, pictures, obelisks, and
works of art, acknowledged his own incapacity to supply their place
with the productions of later genius; and when the world, and
particularly Rome, was plundered to adorn Constantinople, the Emperor,
under whom the work was carried on, might be compared to a prodigal
youth, who strips an aged parent of her youthful ornaments, in order to
decorate a flaunting paramour, on whose brow all must consider them as
misplaced.
Constantinople, therefore, when in 324 it first arose in imperial
majesty out of the humble Byzantium, showed, even in its birth, and
amid its adventitious splendour, as we have already said, some
intimations of that speedy decay to which the whole civilised world,
then limited within the Roman empire, was internally and imperceptibly
tending. Nor was it many ages ere these prognostications of declension
were fully verified.
In the year 1080, Alexius Comnenus [Footnote: See Gibbon, Chap. xlviii,
for the origin and early history of the house of the Comneni.] ascended
the throne of the Empire; that is, he was declared sovereign of
Constantinople, its precincts and dependencies; nor, if he was disposed
to lead a life of relaxation, would the savage incursions of the
Scythians or the Hungarians frequently disturb the imperial slumbers,
if limited to his own capital. It may be supposed that this safety did
not extend much farther; for it is said that the Empress Pulcheria had
built a church to the Virgin Mary, as remote as possible from the gate
of the city, to save her devotions from the risk of being interrupted
by the hostile yell of the barbarians, and the reigning Emperor had
constructed a palace near the same spot, and for the same reason.
Alexius Comnenus was in the condition of a monarch who rather derives
consequence from the wealth and importance of his predecessors, and the
great extent of their original dominions, than from what remnants of
fortune had descended to the present generation. This Emperor, except
nominally, no more ruled over his dismembered provinces, than a half-
dead horse can exercise power over those limbs, on which the hooded
crow and the vulture have already begun to settle and select their prey.
In different parts of his territory, different enemies arose, who waged
successful or dubious war against the Emperor; and, of the numerous
nations with whom he was engaged in hostilities, whether the Franks
from the west, the Turks advancing from the east, the Cumans and
Scythians pouring their barbarous numbers and unceasing storm of arrows
from the north, and the Saracens, or the tribes into which they were
divided, pressing from the south, there was not one for whom the
Grecian empire did not spread a tempting repast. Each of these various
enemies had their own particular habits of war, and a way of
manoeuvring in battle peculiar to themselves. But the Roman, as the
unfortunate subject of the Greek empire was still called, was by far
the weakest, the most ignorant, and most timid, who could be dragged
into the field; and the Emperor was happy in his own good luck, when he
found it possible to conduct a defensive war on a counterbalancing
principle, making use of the Scythian to repel the Turk, or of both
these savage people to drive back the fiery-footed Frank, whom Peter
the Hermit had, in the time of Alexius, waked to double fury, by the
powerful influence of the crusades.
If, therefore, Alexius Comnenus was, during his anxious seat upon the
throne of the East, reduced to use a base and truckling course of
policy - if he was sometimes reluctant to fight when he had a conscious
doubt of the valour of his troops - if he commonly employed cunning and
dissimulation instead of wisdom, and perfidy instead of courage - his
expedients were the disgrace of the age, rather than his own.
Again, the Emperor Alexius may be blamed for affecting a degree of
state which was closely allied to imbecility. He was proud of assuming
in his own person, and of bestowing upon others, the painted show of
various orders of nobility, even now, when the rank within the prince's
gift was become an additional reason for the free barbarian despising
the imperial noble. That the Greek court was encumbered with unmeaning
ceremonies, in order to make amends for the want of that veneration
which ought to have been called forth by real worth, and the presence
of actual power, was not the particular fault of that prince, but
belonged to the system of the government of Constantinople for ages.
Indeed, in its trumpery etiquette, which provided rules for the most
trivial points of a man's behaviour during the day, the Greek empire
resembled no existing power in its minute follies, except that of
Pekin; both, doubtless, being influenced by the same vain wish, to add
seriousness and an appearance of importance to objects, which, from
their trivial nature, could admit no such distinction.
Yet thus far we must justify Alexius, that humble as were the
expedients he had recourse to, they were more useful to his empire than
the measures of a more proud and high-spirited prince might have proved
in the same circumstances. He was no champion to break a lance against
the breast-plate of his Frankish rival, the famous Bohemond of
Antioch,[Footnote: Bohemond, son of Robert Guiscard, the Norman
conqueror of Apulia, Calabria, and Sicily, was, at the time when the
first crusade began, Count of Tarentum. Though far advanced in life, he
eagerly joined the expedition of the Latins, and became Prince of
Antioch. For details of his adventures, death, and extraordinary
character, see Gibbon, chap. lix, and Mills' History of the Crusades,
vol. i.] but there were many occasions on which he hazarded his life
freely; and, so far as we can see, from a minute perusal of his
achievements, the Emperor of Greece was never so dangerous "under
shield," as when any foeman desired to stop him while retreating from a
conflict in which he had been worsted.
But, besides that he did not hesitate, according to the custom of the
time, at least occasionally, to commit his person to the perils of
close combat, Alexius also possessed such knowledge of a general's
profession, as is required in our modern days. He knew how to occupy
military positions to the best advantage, and often covered defeats, or
improved dubious conflicts, in a manner highly to the disappointment of
those who deemed that the work of war was done only on the field of
battle.
If Alexius Comnenus thus understood the evolutions of war, he was still
better skilled in those of politics, where, soaring far above the
express purpose of his immediate negotiation, the Emperor was sure to
gain some important and permanent advantage; though very often he was
ultimately defeated by the unblushing fickleness, or avowed treachery
of the barbarians, as the Greeks generally termed all other nations,
and particularly those tribes, (they can hardly be termed states,) by
which their own empire was surrounded.
We may conclude our brief character of Comnenus, by saying, that, had
he not been called on to fill the station of a monarch who was under
the necessity of making himself dreaded, as one who was exposed to all
manner of conspiracies, both in and out of his own family, he might, in
all probability, have been regarded as an honest and humane prince.
Certainly he showed himself a good-natured man, and dealt less in
cutting off heads and extinguishing eyes, than had been the practice of
his predecessors, who generally took this method of shortening the
ambitious views of competitors.
It remains to be mentioned, that Alexius had his full share of the
superstition of the age, which he covered with a species of hypocrisy.
It is even said, that his wife, Irene, who of course was best
acquainted with the real character of the Emperor, taxed her dying
husband with practising, in his last moments, the dissimulation which
had been his companion during life. [Footnote: See Gibbon, chap. lvi.]
He took also a deep interest in all matters respecting the Church,
where heresy, which the Emperor held, or affected to hold, in great
horror, appeared to him to lurk. Nor do we discover in his treatment of
the Manichaeans, or Paulicians, that pity for their speculative errors,
which modern times might think had been well purchased by the extent of
the temporal services of these unfortunate sectaries. Alexius knew no
indulgence for those who misinterpreted the mysteries of the Church, or
of its doctrines; and the duty of defending religion against
schismatics was, in his opinion, as peremptorily demanded from him, as
that of protecting the empire against the numberless tribes of
barbarians who were encroaching on its boundaries on every side.
Such a mixture of sense and weakness, of meanness and dignity, of
prudent discretion and poverty of spirit, which last, in the European
mode of viewing things, approached to cowardice, formed the leading
traits of the character of Alexius Comnenus, at a period when the fate
of Greece, and all that was left in that country of art and
civilization, was trembling in the balance, and likely to be saved or
lost, according to the abilities of the Emperor for playing the very
difficult game which was put into his hands.
These few leading circumstances will recall, to any one who is
tolerably well read in history, the peculiarities of the period at
which we have found a resting-place for the foundation of our story.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
_Othus_. - - - - - - - This superb successor
Of the earth's mistress, as thou vainly speakest,
Stands midst these ages as, on the wide ocean,
The last spared fragment, of a spacious land,
That in some grand and awful ministration
Of mighty nature has engulfed been,
Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs
O'er the wild waste around, and sadly frowns
In lonely majesty.
CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGUS, _Scene I_.
Our scene in the capital of the Eastern Empire opens at what is termed
the Golden Gate of Constantinople; and it may be said in passing, that
this splendid epithet is not so lightly bestowed as may be expected
from the inflated language of the Greeks, which throws such an
appearance of exaggeration about them, their buildings, and monuments.
The massive, and seemingly impregnable walls with which Constantine
surrounded the city, were greatly improved and added to by Theodosius,
called the Great. A triumphal arch, decorated with the architecture of
a better, though already a degenerate age, and serving, at the same
time, as a useful entrance, introduced the stranger into the city. On
the top, a statue of bronze represented Victory, the goddess who had
inclined the scales of battle in favour of Theodosius; and, as the
artist determined to be wealthy if he could not be tasteful, the gilded
ornaments with which the inscriptions were set off, readily led to the
popular name of the gate. Figures carved in a distant and happier
period of the art, glanced from the walls, without assorting happily
with the taste in which these were built. The more modern ornaments of
the Golden Gate bore, at the period of our story, an aspect very
different from those indicating the "conquest brought back to the
city," and the "eternal peace" which the flattering inscriptions
recorded as having been extorted by the sword of Theodosius. Four or
five military engines, for throwing darts of the largest size, were
placed upon the summit of the arch; and what had been originally
designed as a specimen of architectural embellishment, was now applied
to the purposes of defence.
It was the hour of evening, and the cool and refreshing breeze from the
sea inclined each passenger, whose business was not of a very urgent
description, to loiter on his way, and cast a glance at the romantic
gateway, and the various interesting objects of nature and art, which
the city of Constantinople presented, as well to the inhabitants as to
strangers. [Footnote: The impression which the imperial city was
calculated to make on such visitors as the Crusaders of the West, is
given by the ancient French chronicler Villehardouin, who was present
at the capture of A. D. 1203. "When we had come," he says, "within
three leagues, to a certain Abbey, then we could plainly survey
Constantinople. There the ships and the galleys came to anchor; and
much did they who had never been in that quarter before, gaze upon the
city. That such a city could be in the world they had never conceived,
and they were never weary of staring at the high walls and towers with
which it was entirely encompassed, the rich palaces and lofty churches,
of which there were so many that no one could have believed it, if he
had not seen with his own eyes that city, the Queen of all cities. And
know that there was not so bold a heart there, that it did not feel
some terror at the strength of Constantinople." - Chap. 66.
Again, - "And now many of those of the host went to see Constantinople
within, and the rich palaces and stately churches, of which it
possesses so many, and the riches of the place, which are such as no
other city ever equalled. I need not speak of the sanctuaries, which
are as many as are in all the world beside." - Chap. 100.]
One individual, however, seemed to indulge more wonder and curiosity
than could have been expected from a native of the city, and looked
upon the rarities around with a quick and startled eye, that marked an
imagination awakened by sights that were new and strange. The
appearance of this person bespoke a foreigner of military habits, who
seemed, from his complexion, to have his birthplace far from the
Grecian metropolis, whatever chance had at present brought him to the
Golden Gate, or whatever place he filled in the Emperor's service.
This young man was about two-and-twenty years old, remarkably finely-
formed and athletic - qualities well understood by the citizens of
Constantinople, whose habits of frequenting the public games had taught
them at least an acquaintance with the human person, and where, in the
select of their own countrymen, they saw the handsomest specimens of
the human race.
These were, however, not generally so tall as the stranger at the
Golden Gate, while his piercing blue eyes, and the fair hair which
descended from under a light helmet gaily ornamented with silver,
bearing on its summit a crest resembling a dragon in the act of
expanding his terrible jaws, intimated a northern descent, to which the
extreme purity of his complexion also bore witness. His beauty, however,
though he was eminently distinguished both in features and in person,
was not liable to the charge of effeminacy. From this it was rescued,
both by his strength, and by the air of confidence and self-possession
with which the youth seemed to regard the wonders around him, not
indicating the stupid and helpless gaze of a mind equally inexperienced,
and incapable of receiving instruction, but expressing the bold
intellect which at once understands the greater part of the information
which it receives, and commands the spirit to toil in search of the
meaning of that which it has not comprehended, or may fear it has
misinterpreted. This look of awakened attention and intelligence gave
interest to the young barbarian; and while the bystanders were amazed
that a savage from some unknown or remote corner of the universe should
possess a noble countenance bespeaking a mind so elevated, they
respected him for the composure with which he witnessed so many things,
the fashion, the splendour, nay, the very use of which, must have been
recently new to him.
The young man's personal equipments exhibited a singular mixture of
splendour and effeminacy, and enabled the experienced spectators to
ascertain his nation, and the capacity in which he served. We have
already mentioned the fanciful and crested helmet, which was a
distinction of the foreigner, to which the reader must add in his
imagination a small cuirass, or breastplate of silver, so sparingly
fashioned as obviously to afford little security to the broad chest, on
which it rather hung like an ornament than covered as a buckler; nor,
if a well-thrown dart, or strongly-shod arrow, should alight full on
this rich piece of armour, was there much hope that it could protect
the bosom which it partially shielded.
From betwixt the shoulders hung down over the back what had the
appearance of a bearskin; but, when more closely examined, it was only
a very skilful imitation, of the spoils of the chase, being in reality
a surcoat composed of strong shaggy silk, so woven as to exhibit, at a
little distance, no inaccurate representation of a bear's hide. A light
crooked sword, or scimitar, sheathed in a scabbard of gold and ivory,
hung by the left side of the stranger, the ornamented hilt of which
appeared much too small for the large-jointed hand of the young
Hercules who was thus gaily attired. A dress, purple in colour, and
setting close to the limbs, covered the body of the soldier to a little
above the knee; from thence the knees and legs were bare to the calf,
to which the reticulated strings of the sandals rose from the instep,
the ligatures being there fixed by a golden coin of the reigning
Emperor, converted into a species of clasp for the purpose.
But a weapon which seemed more particularly adapted to the young
barbarian's size, and incapable of being used by a man of less
formidable limbs and sinews, was a battle-axe, the firm iron-guarded
staff of which was formed of tough elm, strongly inlaid and defended
with brass, while many a plate and ring were indented in the handle, to
hold the wood and the steel parts together. The axe itself was composed
of two blades, turning different ways, with a sharp steel spike
projecting from between them. The steel part, both spike and blade, was
burnished as bright as a mirror; and though its ponderous size must
have been burdensome to one weaker than himself, yet the young soldier
carried it as carelessly along, as if it were but a feather's weight.
It was, indeed, a skilfully constructed weapon, so well balanced, that
it was much lighter in striking and in recovery, than he who saw it in
the hands of another could easily have believed.
The carrying arms of itself showed that the military man was a stranger.
The native Greeks had that mark of a civilized people, that they never
bore weapons during the time of peace, unless the wearer chanced to be
numbered among those whose military profession and employment required
them to be always in arms. Such soldiers by profession were easily
distinguished from the peaceful citizens; and it was with some evident
show of fear as well as dislike, that the passengers observed to each
other, that the stranger was a Varangian, an expression which intimated
a barbarian of the imperial body-guard.
To supply the deficiency of valour among his own subjects, and to
procure soldiers who should be personally dependent on the Emperor, the
Greek sovereigns had been, for a great many years, in the custom of
maintaining in their pay, as near their person as they could, the
steady services of a select number of mercenaries in the capacity of
body-guards, which were numerous enough, when their steady discipline
and inflexible loyalty were taken in conjunction with their personal
strength and indomitable courage, to defeat, not only any traitorous
attempt on the imperial person, but to quell open rebellions, unless
such were supported by a great proportion of the military force. Their
pay was therefore liberal; their rank and established character for
prowess gave them a degree of consideration among the people, whose
reputation for valour had not for some ages stood high; and if, as
foreigners, and the members of a privileged body, the Varangians were
sometimes employed in arbitrary and unpopular services, the natives
were so apt to fear, while they disliked them, that the hardy strangers
disturbed themselves but little about the light in which they were
regarded by the inhabitants of Constantinople. Their dress and
accoutrements, while within the city, partook of the rich, or rather
gaudy costume, which we have described, bearing only a sort of affected
resemblance to that which the Varangians wore in their native forests.
But the individuals of this select corps were, when their services were
required beyond the city, furnished with armour and weapons more
resembling those which they were accustomed to wield in their own
country, possessing much less of the splendour of war, and a far
greater portion of its effective terrors; and thus they were summoned
to take the field.
This body of Varangians (which term is, according to one interpretation
merely a general expression for barbarians) was, in an early age of the
empire, formed of the roving and piratical inhabitants of the north,
whom a love of adventure, the greatest perhaps that ever was indulged,
and a contempt of danger, which never had a parallel in the history of
human nature, drove forth upon the pathless ocean. "Piracy," says
Gibbon, with his usual spirit, "was the exercise, the trade, the glory,
and the virtue of the Scandinavian youth. Impatient of a bleak climate
and narrow limits, they started from the banquet, grasped their arms,
sounded their horn, ascended their ships, and explored every coast that
promised either spoil or settlement." [Footnote: Decline and Fall of
the Roman Empire. Chap. lv. vol. x. p. 221, 8vo edition.]
The conquests made in France and Britain by these wild sea-kings, as
they were called, have obscured the remembrance of other northern
champions, who, long before the time of Comnenus, made excursions as
far as Constantinople, and witnessed with their own eyes the wealth and
the weakness of the Grecian empire itself. Numbers found their way
thither through the pathless wastes of Russia; others navigated the
Mediterranean in their sea-serpents, as they termed their piratical
vessels. The Emperors, terrified at the appearance of these daring
inhabitants of the frozen zone, had recourse to the usual policy of a
rich and unwarlike people, bought with gold the service of their swords,
and thus formed a corps of satellites more distinguished for valour
than the famed Praetorian Bands of Rome, and, perhaps because fewer in
number, unalterably loyal to their new princes.
But, at a later period of the empire, it began to be more difficult for
the Emperors to obtain recruits for their favourite and selected corps,
the northern nations having now in a great measure laid aside the
piratical and roving habits, which had driven their ancestors from the
straits of Elsinore to those of Sestos and Abydos. The corps of the
Varangians must therefore have died out, or have been filled up with
less worthy materials, had not the conquests made by the Normans in the
far distant west, sent to the aid of Comnenus a large body of the
dispossessed inhabitants of the islands of Britain, and particularly of
England, who furnished recruits to his chosen body-guard. These were,
in fact, Anglo-Saxons; but, in the confused idea of geography received
at the court of Constantinople, they were naturally enough called
Anglo-Danes, as their native country was confounded with the Thule of
the ancients, by which expression the archipelago of Zetland and Orkney
is properly to be understood, though, according to the notions of the
Greeks, it comprised either Denmark or Britain. The emigrants, however,
spoke a language not very dissimilar to the original Varangians, and
adopted the name more readily, that it seemed to remind them of their
unhappy fate, the appellation being in one sense capable of being
interpreted as exiles. Excepting one or two chief commanders, whom the
Emperor judged worthy of such high trust, the Varangians were officered
by men of their own nation; and with so many privileges, being joined
by many of their countrymen from time to time, as the crusades,
pilgrimages, or discontent at home, drove fresh supplies of the Anglo-
Saxons, or Anglo-Danes, to the east, the Varangians subsisted in
strength to the last days of the Greek empire, retaining their native
language, along with the unblemished loyalty, and unabated martial
spirit, which characterised their fathers.
This account of the Varangian Guard is strictly historical, and might
be proved by reference to the Byzantine historians; most of whom, and
also Villehardouin's account of the taking of the city of
Constantinople by the Franks and Venetians, make repeated mention of
this celebrated and singular body of Englishmen, forming a mercenary
guard attendant on the person of the Greek Emperors. [Footnote: Ducange
has poured forth a tide of learning on this curious subject, which will
be found in his Notes on Villehardouin's Constantinople under the
French Emperors. - Paris, 1637, folio, p. 196. Gibbon's History may also
be consulted, vol. x. p. 231.
Villehardouin, in describing the siege of Constantinople, A. D. 1203,
says, "'Li murs fu mult garnis d'Anglois et de Danois," - hence the
dissertation of Ducange here quoted, and several articles besides in