“As quickly and clearly as I could, I sketched for Stoichev my discovery of the dragon book, Rossi’s disappearance, the contents of the letters and the copies of the strange maps we carried with us, and our research in Istanbul and Budapest, including the folk song and the woodcut with the word Ivireanu in it, which we’d seen in the university library in Budapest. I left out only the secret of the Crescent Guard. I didn’t dare pull any documents from my briefcase with so many other people in sight, but I described for him the three maps and the similarity of the third to the dragon in the books. He listened with the utmost patience and interest, his brow furrowed under his fine white hair and his dark eyes wide. Only once did he interrupt, to ask urgently for a more exact description of each of the dragon books—mine, Rossi’s, Hugh James’s, Turgut’s. I saw that because of his knowledge of manuscripts and early publishing, the books must hold peculiar interest for him. ‘I have mine here,’ I added, touching the briefcase in my lap.
“He started, staring at me. ‘I would like to see this book when that is possible,’ he said.
“But the point that seemed to pique his interest even more was Turgut and Selim’s discovery that the abbot to whom Brother Kiril’s letters were addressed had presided over the monastery at Snagov in Wallachia. ‘Snagov,’ he said in a whisper. His old face had flushed crimson and I wondered for a moment if he was going to faint. ‘I should have known this. And I have had that letter in my library for thirty years!’
“I hoped I would have the chance to ask him, too, where he’d found his letter. ‘You see, there is fairly good evidence that the monks of Brother Kiril’s party traveled from Wallachia to Constantinople before coming to Bulgaria,’ I said.
“‘Yes.’ He shook his head. ‘I have always thought it described a journey of monks from Constantinople, on pilgrimage in Bulgaria. I never realized—Maxim Eupraxius—the abbot of Snagov —’ He seemed almost overcome with swift ruminations, which flashed across his mobile old face like a windstorm and made him blink his eyes rapidly. ‘And this word Ivireanu that you found, and also Mr. Hugh James, in Budapest —’
“‘Do you know what it means?’ I asked eagerly.
“‘Yes, yes, my son.’ Stoichev seemed to be looking through me without seeing. ‘It is the name of Antim Ivireanu, a scholar and printer at Snagov at the end of the seventeenth century—long after Vlad Tepes. I have read about Ivireanu’s work. He made a great name among the scholars of his time and he attracted many illustrious visitors to Snagov. He printed the holy gospels in Romanian and Arabic, and his press was the first one in Romania, in all probability. But—my God—perhaps it was not the first, if the dragon books are much older. There is a great deal I must show you!’ He shook his head, wide-eyed. ‘Let us go into my rooms, quickly.’
“Helen and I glanced around. ‘Ranov is busy with Irina,’ I said in a low voice.
“‘Yes.’ Stoichev got to his feet. ‘We will go in this door at the side of the house. Hurry, please.’
“We needed no urging. The look on his face alone would have been enough to make me follow him up a cliff. He struggled up the stairs and we went slowly after him. At the big table he sat down to rest. I noticed it was scattered with books and manuscripts that hadn’t been there the day before. ‘I have never had very much information about that letter, or the others,’ Stoichev said when he’d caught his breath.
“‘The others?’ Helen sat down beside him.
“‘Yes. There are two more letters from Brother Kiril—with mine and the one in Istanbul, that is four. We must go to Rila Monastery immediately to see the others. This is an incredible discovery, to reunite them. But that is not what I must show you. I never made any connection —’ Again he seemed too stunned to speak for long.
“After a moment, he went into one of the other rooms and came back carrying a paper-covered volume, which proved to be an old scholarly journal printed in German. ‘I had a friend —’ he stopped. ‘If only he had lived to see this day! I told you—his name was Atanas Angelov—yes, he was a Bulgarian historian and one of my first teachers. In 1923 he was doing some researches in the library at Rila, which is one of our great treasure-houses of medieval documents. He found there a manuscript from the fifteenth century—it was hidden inside the wooden cover of an eighteenth-century folio. This manuscript he wanted to publish—it is the chronicle of a journey from Wallachia to Bulgaria. He died while he was making notes on it, and I finished them and published it. The manuscript is still at Rila—and I never knew —’ He smote his head with his frail hand. ‘Here, quickly. It is published in Bulgarian, but we will look through it and I will tell you the most important points.’
“He opened the faded journal with a hand that trembled, and his voice trembled, too, as he picked out for us an outline of Angelov’s discovery. The article that he had written from Angelov’s notes, and the document itself, have since been published in English, with many updates and with endless footnotes. But even now I can’t look at the published version without seeing Stoichev’s aging face, the wispy hair falling over protuberant ears, the great eyes bent to the page with burning concentration, and above all his halting voice.”
Chapter 59
The “Chronicle” of Zacharias of Zographou
By Atanas Angelov and Anton Stoichev
INTRODUCTION
Zacharias’s “Chronicle” as a Historical Document
Despite its famously frustrating incompleteness, the Zacharias “Chronicle,” with the embedded “Tale of Stefan the Wanderer,” is an important source of confirmation of Christian pilgrimage routes in the fifteenth-century Balkans, as well as information about the fate of the body of Vlad III “Tepes” of Wallachia, long believed to have been buried at the monastery on Lake Snagov (in present-day Romania). It also provides us with a rare account of Wallachian neomartyrs (although we cannot know for certain the national origins of the monks from Snagov, with the exception of Stefan, the subject of the “Chronicle”). Only seven other neomartyrs of Wallachian origin are recorded, and none of these is known to have been martyred in Bulgaria.
The untitled “Chronicle,” as it has come to be called, was written in Slavonic in 1479 or 1480 by a monk named Zacharias at the Bulgarian monastery on Mount Athos, Zographou. Zographou, “the monastery of the painter,” originally founded in the tenth century and acquired by the Bulgarian church in the 1220s, is located near the center of the Athonite peninsula. As with the Serbian monastery Hilandar, and the Russian Panteleimon, the population of Zographou was not limited to its sponsoring nationality; this and the lack of any other information about Zacharias make it impossible to determine his origins: he could have been Bulgarian, Serbian, Russian, or perhaps Greek, although the fact that he wrote in Slavonic argues for a Slavic origin. The “Chronicle” tells us only that he was born sometime in the fifteenth century and that his skills were held in esteem by Zographou’s abbot, since the abbot chose him to hear the confession of Stefan the Wanderer in person and record it for an important bureaucratic and perhaps theological purpose.
The travel routes mentioned by Stefan in his tale correspond to several well-known pilgrimage routes. Constantinople was the ultimate destination for Wallachian pilgrims, as it was for all of the eastern Christian world. Wallachia, and particularly the monastery of Snagov, was also a pilgrimage site, and it was not unknown for the route of a pilgrim to touch both Snagov and Athos at its extremes. That the monks passed through Haskovo on their way to the Bachkovo region indicates that they probably took a land route from Constantinople, traveling through Edirne (present-day Turkey) into southeastern Bulgaria; the usual ports on the Black Sea coast would have put them too far north for a stop in Haskovo.
The appearance of traditional pilgrimage destinations in Zacharias’s “Chronicle” raises the question of whether Stefan’s tale is a pilgrimage document. However, the two purported reasons for Stefan’s wanderings—exile from the fallen city of Constantinople after 1453 and the transport of relics and se
arch for a “treasure” in Bulgaria after 1476—make this at least a variation on the classic pilgrim’s chronicle. Furthermore, only Stefan’s departure from Constantinople as a young monk seems to have been motivated primarily by the desire to seek out holy sites abroad.
A second topic on which the “Chronicle” sheds light is the final days of Vlad III of Wallachia (1428?- 76), popularly known as Vlad Tepes—the Impaler—or Dracula. Although several historians who were his contemporaries give descriptions of his campaigns against the Ottomans and his struggles to capture and retain the Wallachian throne, none address in detail the matter of his death and burial. Vlad III made generous contributions to the monastery at Snagov, as Stefan’s tale asserts, rebuilding its church. It is likely that he also requested burial there, in keeping with the tradition of founders of and major donors to foundations throughout the Orthodox world.
The “Chronicle” has Stefan asserting that Vlad visited the monastery in 1476, the last year of his life, perhaps a few months before his death. In 1476, Vlad III’s throne was under tremendous pressure from the Ottoman sultan Mehmed II, with whom Vlad had been at war intermittently since around 1460. At the same time, his hold on the Wallachian throne was threatened by a contingent of his boyars that was prepared to side with Mehmed should he stage a new invasion of Wallachia.
If Zacharias’s “Chronicle” is accurate, Vlad III paid a visit to Snagov that is otherwise unrecorded and must have been extremely dangerous to him personally. The “Chronicle” reports Vlad’s bringing treasure to the monastery; that he did so at great personal risk indicates the importance to him of his tie with Snagov. He must have been well aware of the constant threats to his life, both from the Ottomans and from his primary Wallachian rival during that period, Basarab Laiota, who held the Wallachian throne briefly after Vlad’s death. Since little political gain could come from his visiting Snagov, it seems reasonable to speculate that Snagov was important to Vlad III for spiritual or personal reasons, perhaps because he planned to make it his last resting place. In any case, Zacharias’s “Chronicle” confirms that he gave Snagov particular attention near the end of his life.
The circumstances of Vlad III’s death are very unclear, and have been further clouded by conflicting folk legends and shoddy scholarship. In late December 1476 or early January 1477, he was ambushed, probably by part of the Turkish army in Wallachia, and killed in the skirmish that followed. Some traditions have held that he was actually killed by his own men, who mistook him for a Turkish officer when he climbed a hill to get a better view of an ongoing battle. A variant of this legend asserts that some of his men had been looking for a chance to assassinate him, in punishment for his infamous cruelty. Most sources that discuss his death agree that Vlad’s corpse was decapitated and his head taken to Sultan Mehmed in Constantinople as proof that a great enemy had fallen.
In either case, according to Stefan’s tale, some of Vlad III’s men must still have been loyal to him, since they risked bringing his corpse to Snagov. The headless corpse was long believed to have been buried in the Snagov church, in front of the altar.
If the tale of Stefan the Wanderer is to be trusted, Vlad III’s corpse was secretly transported from Snagov to Constantinople, and from there to a monastery called Sveti Georgi, in Bulgaria. The purpose of this deportation, and what the “treasure” was that the monks were seeking first in Constantinople and then in Bulgaria, is unclear. Stefan’s tale asserts that the treasure would “hasten the salvation of the soul of this prince,” which indicates that the abbot must have thought this theologically necessary. Possibly they sought some holy Constantinopolitan relic spared by both the Latin and Ottoman conquests. He might also not have wanted to take on the responsibility for destroying the corpse at Snagov, or mutilating it in accordance with beliefs about vampire prevention, or to take the risk that this might be carried out by local villagers. This would have been a natural reluctance, given Vlad’s status and the fact that members of the Orthodox clergy were discouraged from participating in corpse mutilation.
Unfortunately, no likely burial site for Vlad III’s remains has ever been found in Bulgaria, and even the location of the foundation called Sveti Georgi, like that of the Bulgarian monastery Paroria, is unknown; it was probably abandoned or destroyed during the Ottoman era, and the “Chronicle” is the only document that sheds light on even a general location. The “Chronicle” claims that they traveled only a short distance—“not much farther”—from the monastery at Bachkovo, located about thirty-five kilometers south of Asenovgrad on the Chepelarska River. Clearly, Sveti Georgi was situated somewhere in south central Bulgaria. This area, which includes much of the Rhodope Mountains, was among the last Bulgarian regions to be conquered by the Ottomans; some particularly rugged terrain in the area was never brought under full Ottoman domination. If Sveti Georgi was located in the mountains, this might have accounted in part for its selection as a relatively safe resting place for the remains of Vlad III.
Despite the claim of the “Chronicle” that it became a pilgrimage site after the Snagov monks settled there, Sveti Georgi does not appear in other primary sources of the period, or in any later sources, which could indicate that it vanished or was deserted relatively soon after Stefan’s departure from it. We do know something of the founding of Sveti Georgi, however, from a single copy of its typikon preserved in the library at Bachkovo Monastery. According to this document, Sveti Georgi was founded by Georgios Komnenos, a distant cousin of the Byzantine emperor Alexios I Komnenos, in 1101. Zacharias’s “Chronicle” asserts that the monks there were “old and few” when the group from Snagov arrived; presumably those few monks had preserved the regime outlined by the typikon and were joined in it by the Wallachian monks.
It is worth noting that the “Chronicle” emphasizes the journey of the Wallachians through Bulgaria in two different ways: by describing the martyrdom of two of them at the hands of Ottoman officials in some detail and by recording the attention given by the Bulgarian population to their progress through the country. There is no way to know what provoked the Ottomans in Bulgaria, with their general toleration of Christian religious activities, to see the Wallachian monks as a threat. Stefan reports through Zacharias that his friends were “interrogated” in the town of Haskovo before being tortured and killed, which suggests that Ottoman authorities believed they possessed politically sensitive information of some sort. Haskovo is located in southeast Bulgaria, a region that was securely under Ottoman command by the fifteenth century. Strangely, the martyred monks were given the traditional Ottoman punishments for stealing (amputation of the hands) and for running away (amputation of the feet). Most neomartyrs under the Ottomans were tortured and killed through other methods. These forms of punishment, as well as the search of the monks’ wagon described by Stefan in his tale, make clear the Haskovo officials’ accusation of thievery, although they were apparently unable to prove the charge.
Stefan reports widespread attention from the Bulgarian people along the route, which could have accounted for Ottoman curiosity. However, only eight years earlier, in 1469, the relics of Sveti Ivan Rilski, the hermit founder of Rila Monastery, had been translated from Veliko Trnovo to a chapel at Rila, a procession witnessed and described by Vladislav Gramatik in his “Narrative of the Transportation of the Remains of Sveti Ivan.” During this translation, Ottoman officials tolerated the attention given by local Bulgarians to the relics, and the journey served as an important unifying event and symbol for Bulgarian Christians. Both Zacharias and Stefan would probably have been aware of the famous journey of Ivan Rilski’s bones, and some written account of it may have been available to Zacharias at Zographou by 1479.
This earlier—and very recent—toleration of a similar religious procession through Bulgaria makes Ottoman concern about the journey of the Wallachian monks particularly significant. The search of their wagon—probably carried out by officers of the guard of a local pasha—indicates that some knowledge of the purpose of t
heir journey had perhaps reached Ottoman officials in Bulgaria. Certainly the Ottoman authorities would not have been eager to house in Bulgaria the remains of one of their greatest political enemies, or to tolerate the veneration of those remains. More puzzling, however, is the fact that on searching the wagon they must have found nothing, since Stefan’s tale later mentions the interment of the body at Sveti Georgi. We can only speculate on how they would have hidden an entire (if headless) corpse, if they were indeed carrying one.
Finally, a point of interest for both historians and anthropologists is the reference in the “Chronicle” to the beliefs of the monks at Snagov vis-à-vis their visions in the church there. They could not agree about what had transpired with Vlad III’s corpse during their vigil for him, and they named several of the methods traditionally cited as the basis for the transformation of a corpse into the living dead—a vampire—indicating a general belief among them that he was at risk of such an outcome. Some of them believed they had seen an animal jumping over the corpse and others that a supernatural force in the form of fog or wind had entered the church and caused the body to sit up. The case of an animal is widely documented in Balkan folklore about vampire genesis, as is the belief that vampires can turn into fog or mist. Vlad III’s notorious bloodletting, and his conversion to Catholicism in the household of the Hungarian king Mátyás Corvinus, would probably have been known to the monks, the former since it was common knowledge in Wallachia and the latter because it must have been a concern in the Orthodox community there (and particularly in Vlad’s favored monastery, where the abbot was probably his confessor).
The Manuscripts
The “Chronicle” of Zacharias is known through two manuscripts, Athos 1480 and R.VII.132; the latter is also referred to as the “Patriarchal Version.” Athos 1480, a quarto manuscript in a single semiuncial hand, is housed in the library at Rila Monastery in Bulgaria, where it was discovered in 1923. This, the earlier of the two versions of the “Chronicle,” was almost certainly penned by Zacharias himself at Zographou, probably from notes made at Stefan’s deathbed. Despite his claim that he “took down every word,” Zacharias must have made this copy after considerable composition; it reflects a polish he could not have achieved on the spot, and contains only one correction. This original manuscript was probably housed in the Zographou library until at least 1814, since it is mentioned by title in a bibliography of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century manuscripts at Zographou dating from that year. It resurfaced in Bulgaria in 1923, when the Bulgarian historian Atanas Angelov discovered it hidden in the cover of an eighteenth-century folio treatise on the life of Saint George (Georgi 1364.21) in the library at Rila Monastery. Angelov ascertained in 1924 that no copy was extant at Zographou. It is unclear exactly when or how this original made its way from Athos to Rila, although the threat of pirate raids on Athos during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries may have played a part in its removal (and that of numerous other precious documents and artifacts) from the Holy Mountain.
The Historian Page 53