It was Isaac Angelus who lashed the Bulgarians to desperation by driving away their only means of subsistence—their flocks and herds—to contribute to the extravagant splendour that was wasted on his nuptials. Two powerful Bulgarian chiefs—Peter and Asan—rose in revolt, asserted their own rights and the national freedom, and spread the fire of rebellion from the Danube to the hills of Macedonia and Thrace. By the supineness of the Emperor these proceedings were allowed to pass unchecked, a fact which added to the contempt felt for the Greeks by their former subjects. Asan addressed his troops in these words: “In all the Greeks, the same climate and character and education will be productive of the same fruits. Behold my lance and the long streamers that float in the wind. They differ only in colour, they are formed of the same silk and fashioned by the same workman, nor has the stripe that is stained in purple any superior price or value above its fellows.”
So after several faint efforts Isaac and his brother, who usurped the throne, acquiesced in the independence of the Bulgarians. John, or Joannice, ascended the throne of a second kingdom of Bulgaria, and submitted himself as a spiritual vassal to the Pope, from whom he received a licence to coin money, a royal title and a Latin archbishop. Thus the Vatican accomplished the spiritual conquest of Bulgaria, the first object of the schism between the Western and the Eastern See when, after the disorders provoked by hopeless Eastern emperors, such as Alexius IV and V, and Nicolas Canabus, the Latins gained possession of the throne of Cæsar. Calo-John, as he was called, King of Bulgaria, sent friendly greetings to Baldwin I, but these provoked an unexpected answer. The
Latin Emperor demanded that the rebel should deserve his pardon by touching with his forehead the footstool of the Imperial throne. So trouble broke out again, again war was waged with all its attendant savagery, and Calo-John reinforced his army by a body of 14,000 horsemen from the Scythian deserts. A fierce battle at Adrianople resulted in the total defeat of the Emperor, and he himself was taken prisoner. His fate was for some years uncertain, and even the demands of the Pope for the restitution of the Emperor failed to elicit any other answer from King John, save that Baldwin had died in prison. For years the conflict raged till Henry, the second of the Latin Emperors, routed the Bulgarians. Calo-John was slain in his tent by night, and the deed was piously ascribed to the lance of St. Demetrius.
We have followed the sad fate of the crusade which Pope Urban proclaimed against the Turks in a preceding chapter and seen how Amurath, surprising the Christian camp, drove his enemies before him “as flames driven before the wind, till plunging into the Maritza they perished in its waters.” Sisvan the Bulgarian King obtained a peace at the price of the marriage of his daughter to Amurath in 1389, invaded the kingdom of Bulgaria, making Adrianople the base of operations; how Sisvan the king fled to Nicopolis, was there besieged by Ali and surrendered.
From that date till quite recent times Bulgaria has been incorporated in the Ottoman Empire. Now, after a lapse of over five centuries, she has again established her national identity and under an enlightened and progressive ruler gives promise of holding her own without experiencing another break in the history of the race. The Golden Gate and its romantic history has claimed a considerable portion of the travellers’ and the Author’s time. The Artist hopes his pencil has done sufficient justice to those glorious ruins, and for some time has turned eager eyes northward, where a line of stately towers and masses of ruined masonry offer fair prospect of enriching his store of sketches.
The road that leads us onward may perhaps pass unrecognized as such by travellers who are used to the smooth surface over which the motor races in a cloud of dust in Western countries. But let the Author assure them that this broad track, one side supplied with rough stones picturesquely dispersed, the other chiefly consisting of ruts and holes, is indeed a road, and that, too, one whereon we have to travel. Moving along we soon forget its shortcomings in the beauty of the scenery on either hand. To the left a gentle ridge, and everywhere, as far as eye can see, countless cypress-trees, some in stately groups, others in dark, jagged masses. Beneath these rest faithful sons of Islam, many of whom dashed out their souls against the walls that rise on our right hand. Tier upon tier they rise—some almost intact, others battered beyond recognition, right away from the Golden Gate to within sight of the Golden Horn. These are the Theodosian walls, the proudest and most lasting monument to that dynasty which was founded when Gratian invested Theodosius with the Imperial Purple.