The Winter Voyage: Coming Home

When John Palaiologos sailed to  Italy in the winter of 1437 for the Council of Union, it was with Venetian galleys hired by the Pope. The captain of his ship was one Michael of Rhodes. None of the Venetian documents mentions Michael's name, though they do name the investors in the voyage, but a frustratingly short entry in Michael's diary says: 

I signed on as comito with the nobleman Alvise Bembo with the papal galleys to Constantinople for the emperor, in 1437, my captain the distinguished Antonio Condulmer, my paron Nicolo de Candia.*

When the Greek delegation to the Council of Union returned in the winter of 1439, Michael wrote again:

I signed up in the papal voyage to Romania. We carried the emperor to Constantinople. Captain in this the distinguished Antonio Condulmer, having the galley of the nobleman Andrea Gritti, whose patron was Nicolo Gritti, with two Tana galleys accompanying.  Their captain was Marco Zago and patrons Andrea Contarini and Francesco Manolesso, armiraio of them Nicolo Dellegende, my armiraio Benedetto Dardoin, my sworn paron Antonio Paresin.*

That is all we know about Michael's role in John's life, and given John's experiences on board ship, both trips, John probably never wanted to see him again.

The Document of Union was signed on 6 July 1439. Despite his personal misery, John made a fine impression, "with a hat in Greek style on the point of which was a beautiful jewel, a handsome man with a beard in Greek style."  There were still more days of bickering, and then, on 20 and 21 July, more signing so that all the right people could be sent copies.  A group of Greeks then left immediately for Venice, and on the 25, John's brother Demetrios left with Georgios Gemistos Plethon and Scholarios -- the three of them strongly opposed to Union. Possibly John was not well, as on the 28th, John he made a pilgrimage to a healing shrine, and then had his famous visit and lunch with Giovanni di Pigli who saw how much trouble he had walking.

He was in Florence some time longer, not arriving in Bologna until 31 August, but the ships were nowhere ready to leave. The imperial ship was blessed and launched on 13 September -- the Medici had sent up 6000 florins on behalf of the Pope for expenses -- but there was a fire in the arsenale that night and another long delay.  John made a trip to Padua.  After he got back, the Greeks had a liturgy in San Marco at the request of the Doge which was a great cause for upset once people got back to Constantinople.   John was ill and did not attend.  Then they had a funeral service for the Patriarch, Joseph II, who had died in Florence where he had been buried in the cathedral.

It was not until 14 October that the Greek delegation actually boarded their ships to leave. The Pope had insisted, because of the expense, that a hundred go on each galley, and the crowding was justifiably much resented. That night a storm broke the ships from their moorings, and smashed in the side of one. It took three days to repair the damage.  (Two years earlier, when they boarded the ships for Venice, there at been an earthquake the first night.)  The delegation actually sailed on the 19th.  Leaving Pola, they encountered contrary winds and had to wait three days.  More bad weather forced them to stop at a deserted island, where they thought they had lost the Emperor whose ship had only half the oarsmen that it should.  Then at Ragusa there was another storm, so violent that they did not expect to live through it.  Once they were able to sail again, another storm blew them far off course.

At Corfu, the ships had to wait for the Emperor's galley to catch up.  The Corfiots were upset about the Union and argued with the Emperor who gave them their own signed copy. From Corfu to Methoni the sailing went well and they arrived on 16 November. They stayed there for  more than a week, the Greeks of Methoni protested the Union, and there was a more-or-less joint liturgy celebrated by a Latin. The Mistra delegation left the group, freeing up a little space on the galleys.

The Emperor went by horseback to Koroni where there was another demonstration of antipathy to Union and where he rejoined his galley.   Passing Cape Malea, there was another terrifying storm.  The sight of the columns of the temple of Poseidon at the Cape of Columns gave a bit of hope, the wind was down, the sea calm.  Then there were two days of drenching rain while they struggled to attain Negroponte.  At Negroponte, another joint liturgy was celebrated by a Greek.  The priests of the island made a great protest about Union.

After ten days, they were ready to sail again, but John decided to wait for couriers from Constantinople, and then the weather turned nasty. It was two weeks before the other ships could sail, up the coastline, to Oreos where they waited for John.   George of Cappadocia died after a long illness and they buried him in a little island church of St. George  After ten days without the Emperor arriving, they sailed back down to Negroponte to sit out fifteen days of snow and ice.

It was learned -- couriers actually arrived -- that John's wife, Maria, was ill with plague but no one told John.   They were ready to sail when a relative, Konstantinos Palaiologos, died  and it was arranged that the interpreter, Nicolo Sagundino, would see to his burial.

They were able to use their sails past Skyros and Skiathos, but then were forced to stop at the little island of Cheliodromia for a storm.  They ran out of food and water, then sent a galley to Skopelos to get provisions.  Two days later the galley brought back seventeen loaves of bread and a donkey to use for dog food. (Had you realized John's hunting dogs were sailing, too?) There was debate as to whether they should return to Negroponte, or go to Crete, or to Lesbos.  Then the ships became separated -- the details get lost at this point -- and they met up again in the harbor at Pelagonisi.

John wanted to leave immediately: Condulmer's secretary announced that they would be there for a week, and contrary winds made sure that would be true.  When they sailed, Condulmer, "forgetting his great age," encouraged the oarsmen by calling them his brothers, and promising them a great deal of wine.  Meanwhile the galleys of John and Demetrios were held back by wind.  They reached Lemnos after another day, and there John went hunting. While he was out hunting, the Venetian oarsmen got their wine and pillaged the port of Kotzinos.  (I had said they pillaged on the outward journey, but I was wrong on this.)

Also while he was out hunting, word arrived of the death of his wife, the Empress Maria, and of Demetrios' wife Zoe.  It was decided not to tell either of them, or else it would be two weeks before John would be able to sail.  Another storm.  A four-hour sail to the Hellespont. Gallipoli where they encountered a Venetian ship that had left Venice two weeks after them.  The Emperor took on board several men, lions (lions? that's what the Greek says), and dogs that he wanted to take to Constantinople.

At Gallipoli the Turkish governor sent greetings to the Emperor, and John sent him a silver vase in return.  From there, it was two days to the port of Hebdomon, just outside Constantinople, where the governor of Constantinople -- Paul Asan -- came with a small group of people to greet them. They sailed around to the Golden Horn  and dropped anchor near the arsenale where they  received another welcome and spent the night.  It was necessary to prepare a grand entrance for the Emperor's return.

The next morning, on 1 February, a galley with Constantine and a great many Italians came to conduct them formally into port.  Trumpets and chanting accompanied them from along the shore. Once on shore, Constantine led a horseback procession to the palace.  Since it was known that John did not know of his wife's death, there was a great show of celebration.

But at the palace they encountered mourning. John had been told privately that Demetrios' wife, Zoe, had died of plague, and  Demetrios had been told privately that John's wife had died, so each thought it was for the other's loss.  The "holy Empress" Helena took her sons into a private room and told them that both their wives had died.  John was immediately ill, in bed for three weeks, his exhaustion, gout, and grief worsened by the fury of the anti-unionists.  No one bothered to report about Demetrios.  I have no idea what happened to the lions.

* Comito: actual commander of the ship, what we understand by captain.  When Michael says captain, he means the individual in command of a group of ships or galleys.  Paron, dialect for patron,  or the investor in the voyage who takes the physical risk of travel. Armiraio : responsible for navigation.

The drawings are from the Michael of Rhodes manuscript in which Michael recorded information about his voyages, routes, notes for shipbuilding, cures for illnesses, and much else. The 200-page manuscript has been splendidly edited and published in three volumes at M.I.T. Press by a group of scholars which included Alan M. Stahl, Curator of Numismatics at Princeton, Pamela Long, and David McGee, and has recently won the biennial Eugene S. Ferguson Prize for the best reference work or edition from the Society for the History of Technology, and the Jameson Prize for the best edition of a primary source important for historians from the American Historical Association.

Felix Fabri on Mediterranean Sailing

Felix Fabri is the guest writer for this entry.  He went twice as a pilgrim to Palestine between 1480 and 1483.  He was a Franciscan monk from Ulm, in the center of the Holy Roman Empire, and went by land from Ulm to Venice where he and his groups chartered space on pilgrim galleys.  A pilgrim galley was considerably bulkier than the light galley pictured here.  Below is a link to his fascinating account of his travels. Next month will be two entries on the miseries of winter sailing in the Mediterranean, but for late August his accounts of the joys of summer sailing seem about right.

* * * * * * 

Between these two countries [Morocco and Spain] the Mediterranean Sea flows in from the Ocean through the aforesaid strait, which is scarce a quarter of a mile in width. For washerwomen stand on either bank, pagan women in Morocco, Christian women in Spain, and abuse one another, and there Africa is divided from Europe. . .

These men [pilots] are all alike so learned in their art that by looking at the heavens they can foretell storms or calms, whereof they can also read signs in the colour of the sea,i n the flocking together and movement of the dolphins and flying fish, in the smoke of the fire, the smell of the bilge water, the glittering of the ropes and cables at night, and the flashing of the oars as they dip into the sea. At night they know all the hours by looking at the stars. Beside the mast they have one compass, and another in the uppermost chamber of the castle, and a lamp always burns beside it at night; nor do they ever turn their eyes away from it when sailing at night, but one always gazes at the compass, and chants a kind of sweet song, which shows that all is going well, and in the same tone he chants to him that holdeth the tiller of the rudder, to which quarter the rudder itself ought to be moved: nor does the steersman dare to move the tiller any whither save by the orders of him who looks after the compass, wherein he sees whether the ship be going straight or crookedly, or sideways. . .

. . . these [sailors] are the men who know how to run about the ropes like cats, who ascend the shrounds very swiftly up to the cap, run along the yard standing upright even in the fiercest storms, who weigh up the anchors, diving into deep water if they stick fast, and who do all the most dangerous work on board. They are in general very active young men, who are quite reckless of their lives, and are also bold and powerful in the galley like a baron's armed followers. Under these again there are others who are called mariners, who sing when work is gong on, because work at sea is very heavy, and is only carried on by a concert between one who sings out orders and the labourers who sing in response. So these men stand by those who are at work, and sing to them, encourage them, and threaten to spur them on with blows. Great weights are dragged about by their means. They are generally old and respectable men. . .

This fortunate wind and delightful run lasted all that day and the following night, during which we slept most peacefully, gliding swiftly and sweetly along, because the course of the galley was not sideways, but straight forward, which inclined us to slumber. For when the wind is quite fair, and not too strong, there is hardly any motion which those who are in the cabin can feel, because the ship runs along quietly, without faltering, and both the pilgrims below and the galley-slaves on deck sleep quietly, and all is still, save only he who watches the compass and he who holds the handle of the rudder, for these by way of returning thanks for our happy voyage and good luck continually greet the breeze, praise God, the Blessed Virgin and the saints, one answering the other, and are never silent as long as the wind is fair. Anyone on board who hears this chant of theirs would fall asleep, even though otherwise he could not sleep, just as restless crying children are lulled to rest by their mother's crooning song, when if all was still they would cry, and they go to sleep more because the song assures them of their mother's presence than because of its sweetness.

[At Modon] I took my lords and some other pilgrims to the church of the Preaching Friars, and there we heard high Mass. The prior of that place and the other brethren knew me well from my first pilgrimage. After Mass was over we went to the house of the bakers, where biscuits are baked for seafarers, wherein dwells an old German, and there we had our dinner cooked, and dined. The other pilgrims went over to the house of the Teutonic lords, and there provided a meal for themselves. After dinner we went up to the walls of the town and walked round upon them, and admired its impregnable fortifications. It is not an island, but part of the mainland, whereof the whole belongs to the Turks. On my return I shall tell you more about this . . . for the city of Modon is said to be midway between Venice and Jerusalem. About vespers both patrons blew their horns to call their pilgrims on board . . .

On the twenty-third, the eve of St. John the Baptist, we sailed before a very strong wind, and during the previous night sailed so fast that in the morning we saw no land, nothing but the . . . sea. When the sun set and it was growing dark, our sailors prepared to make St. John's fire on the galley, which they did as follows: They took many more than forty lanterns made of wood and transparent horn, and hung them one above the other on a long rope, and then, when the lamps were lighted, they hoisted them up aloft to the maintop, in such sort that the burning lanterns hung down from the maintop as far as the rowing-benches, and lighted up the whole galley. To see this sight all men came on deck from the cabin, the poop, and the innermost chambers of the galley, and stood round about it. Thereupon the trumpeters began to blow their trumpets, and the galley-slaves and other sailors sang, rejoiced, chanted, danced, and clapped their hands; whereat all who stood round about were wrought upon by the shouts of gladness and the clapping of hands to rejoice at the respect paid to the most blessed forerunner of our Lord. Before this show I never had beheld the practice of clapping the hands for joy, to which allusion is made in the forty-sixth Psalm, which saith: 'O clap your hands, all ye people; shout unto God with the voice of triumph.' Nor could I have believed at the same time, when done out of gladness, would have such great power to move the human mind to joy. So we rejoiced greatly on board of the galley until about midnight, sailing along all the while swiftly and quietly on our way. After this we laid ourselves down to sleep.

Excerpts are from The Book of the Wanderings of Felix Fabri (Circa 1480-1483 A.D.) trans. Aubrey Stewart. 2 vols. London: Palestine Pilgrims' Text Society, 1896. 
 For a very different view of Mediterranean sailing, read what happened to John VIII Palaiologos in the winter of 1437.