 In the heart of the glamorous countries that border the Mediterranean Sea, lies Turkey. Its hills and valleys have felt the thundering feet of the horsemen of Pamelaen. Omar Qayyam sang of his conquering sultans. On the western shore ripples the blue Aegean Sea, where every rock of the sea, and every rock of the sea, and every rock of the sea, on the western shore ripples the blue Aegean Sea, where every rocky point echoes the enchanted days of the golden past. Sailing through the sea of Marmora, our ship comes to anchor in the superb harbor of Istanbul, the Golden Horn, a great natural crescent more than four miles in length, where since the beginning of time the ships of all the world have come to rest. If you ever see a better sight for a city than that peninsula, never. With such perfect natural defenses, I can't see how any army ever took it. The Golden Horn on one side, the Bosphorus on another, and the Sea on still another. Yes, and the hills command the whole harbor. Are you two fighting the war over again? And not the last war, Qayy. The siege of Constantinople in 1453. When all the churches were turned into mosques? Yes, but we're missing something. Look, the old city walls come right down to the harbor, see? Yes, I see them. Oh, I can hardly wait to go ashore. Constantinople. Oh, pinch me, Martin, and see if I'm dreaming. You're not dreaming, but don't forget to call it Istanbul now. Constantinople, now called Istanbul, ancient Byzantium, founded in the shadowy dawn of history. Wracked by earthquakes, ravaged by fire, besieged by innumerable hosts in the long struggle between the Crescent and the Cross, Constantinople defied them all during 40 centuries. Today, in the throng streets and noisy bazaars, Musselman and Christian live out their peaceful lives, heedless that under their slippery feet sleep the ruins of the savage, splendid past. It is the year 527. 200 years after Constantine moved the seat of the Roman Empire to Constantinople. The old emperor, Justin, lies in his great bed, surrounded by the rich trappings of his age. Why must I lie here helpless at the mercy of a woman's tongue? Bring Justinian in. Wait. You shall not see your nephew until I have warned you. Justinian is determined to marry Theodora, the actress. Now I know well it is the law that a senator may not marry an actress. But hear me, Justin, we are childless. It is your hope to see Justinian upon the throne. You know who this woman is, the daughter of Acacia, the feeder of bears at the amphitheater. Besides, she has been an actress since she was a child. He is a woman of that character to marry a nephew of the emperor, even if he should give up his seat in the Senate to do so. Hey, old woman, make him at once. Oh, you men are all alike. You believe a beautiful woman can do no wrong. Your Majesty. Good morning, wife of my uncle. You have dared to bring this woman to the palace, Justinian. Shall the emperor be denied the sight of the most beautiful woman in the empire? How is he this morning? I believe he has not long to live. Is he alone? Yes. He is waiting to see you. You only. Even I am not permitted to be present. His eyes will be gladdened by the sight of Theodora. I will not be humiliated by remaining in the room with this notorious woman. I'm sorry, beloved. She hates me because I'm an actress. And because you're beautiful while she's... No, no, you shall not say it. All women who live must become old and ugly. Justinian, when we have spoken to your uncle, I beg you to leave me alone with him for a few moments. I agree. But why? Do you think you can cast your spell over him more completely in secret? Come, let us go in. I warn you, I will not leave you alone too long with him. I'm jealous of every man. Greetings, my uncle. You are welcome, Justinian. I have brought Theodora that you may see for yourself. I have chosen wisely. Your Majesty. Do not kneel to me. Seat yourself on the couch. There is something I must say. The wound I received in battle three years ago gives me no peace. Even the physicians have said it is incurable. Now I must plan for the disposal of my empire. But perhaps other physicians, Your Majesty. No, no, I know the end is approaching. I am an old man and weary of empire. It was only because I was a good soldier that it was given to me. I have defended it. The people are content. But I am unlearned. I have been fit only for fighting battles. Not for building a great kingdom. Justinian, you will build an empire that will be the envy of all the world. God grant you may yet live long. I have no wish to live longer. Theodora begs permission to speak to you alone, my uncle. It is granted. But I order you to wait outside the door and not admit the impression. It shall be as you say. Sire, I wish only to tell you this. Justinian will accomplish great things for the empire. He plans to build great churches so there will be places of worship for all the people. He has studied the laws and found much to be improved. But I know he needs me. A wise emperor can do much for the people. You are young to call yourself wise. I am young, but since I was a child I have known many people. I have learned how to bend them to my will. There is truth in the saying that no man resists theodora. Your majesty is very kind. I know you have not forgotten the law that forbids the senator to marry an actress. No, but now I have seen you. I will tell you a secret that even my counselors do not know. What is it? The law is to be repealed. Your majesty. Why should a man be emperor if not to change an unjust law? Forgive me, your majesty. Your wife will never permit it. A dying man needs fear no one, even his wife. Call Justinian back. A moment, your majesty. Justinian, come in. I have just said to Theodora that the law forbidding senators to marry actresses is to be repealed. My uncle, you have given me my heart's desire. Moreover, she shall be more than the wife of the emperor. You and Theodora will rule together. Your majesty. Send for the scribe to write the bequest. It should be done at once. Justinian and Theodora come to the throne of their powerful empire. Five years pass. Then in the streets and gathering places, an ominous rumble of discontent begins. Finally, one night in a marketplace at the edge of the city. Why we endure it? While Justinian, the emperor, builds churches, revives the laws, and sends his armies out to fight, the empress rules the land. Her spies are everywhere. What Justinian provides well for his people? Theodora is a common woman, an actress. She encourages wives to defy their husband. If Justinian is ruled by his wife's hand, he should be deposed. And the time is now. Let us go to the palace. If Justinian resists, kill him with his wife, who uses her beauty to disguise her tyranny. They're coming to the palace now. I beg your majesty to leave the city at once. Theodora, I must send you away. They will kill you. Do you think I would leave you because some foolish citizen has stirred up the people against you? Listen, I hear them coming. Go, Belisarius. Your usefulness will be over if you're seen here with us yesterday. Theodora, I beg you. There's still time. They will kill you. I could not end your life without you. No, Justinian, I... Think of the empire. If you go now, this rebellion will wear itself out and you can return. The empire needs you. Harry, I would then serve and trade you. I will not go. I would rather be killed than run away. What are you going to do? To show myself of the balcony. I am not afraid of them. I beg you, let me speak to them alone. Down with Theodora. Down with the Empress. Listen to me, my people. Listen. Hear me. I am not afraid to stand here before my people alone. If you want my life, it is yours. Because my life belongs to the empire. But if you drive Justinian away, you will be ruined. He or not, our mouth is filled with lies. Justinian has been emperor. Every hill crowned with a church. Every street filled with busy people. The golden horn is full of merchant ships. He or not, she believes her beauty is a charm against us all. Am I less a queen than if I were a hag? No, she's my guest. The Empress is my guest. Would our people return to the state of debauchery and poverty that existed for 300 years? Think before you take our lives. Think of your wives and your children. Will you return to that misery? Or shall the emperor and I remain? Then in the south, the prophet of a new religion appears. Justinian's Christian empire feels the hot breath of Islam. Hordes of fanatic muhabitans pillage the country. Again and again lay siege to Constantinople. Are driven off by succeeding after us. But little by little the empire dwindles. Provinces and islands are taken and held by powerful nobles from Greece and Venice. Constantinople alone remains. In the year 1453, Constantine the 13th, wearied by desperate fighting, holds the council of his leaders. While outside the walls the host of Muhammad II, Sultan of the Ottoman Turks are gathered. Muhammad has closed the Bosphorus so that green ships can no longer bring his supplies from the Black Sea. But what provisions could be attained? I have brought to the city. We have fewer than 7,000 men to guard 10 miles of fortifications. The enemy is 20 times the song. Have the spies brought word when the attack is to be made? Tonight a dozen men made a sortie to the ancient Kyrgyz Gate and brought back prisoners who revealed the plans. I thought Kyrgyz Gate had been sealed for 200 years because of the ancient prophecies that through it a conqueror would enter. Well, that reason it is not watched. I will read the names of our points of defense. Answer with the names of those who guard them. The Gate of 10,000 Men. Paul and Anthony Bocchiardi of Genoa. Karthus Gate. Theodorus, the uttered. I need you in Gate. Cardinal Izzodorus. Palace of Black County. Gelo Minotto, the Venetian. The Gate of Saint Romanus. I myself will guard. Justin Yane, the Genoese. And Don Francisco of Toledo. Yes, you too, beside me. Who is to guard the Kyrgyz Gate? There is no need to guard it. As you say, it has been sealed for 200 years. This, the enemy knows well. Comes to the walls. Marshall your men. Sell your lives as dearly as you can. Fire, your majesty. The Turks are in the city. They've stolen through the Kyrgyz Gate. Even now, they're at the Palace Walls. I don't... I don't... I don't... I don't... I don't... I don't... At noon on the following day, the conquering Sultan rode to the streets of the devastated city. The sound of gongs proclaiming the victory of the Crescent over the cross. Then, for a hundred years, the hills and valleys of Asia Minor echoed to the battle shouts and to the wild yells of dervishes, rousing the people to recapture the lands that had once been theirs. The palaces of Constantinople filled with gold and jewels. Loot of a thousand conquests. At last comes the most splendid of all sultans, magnificent. Bringing to the great country a glory she had never known. The sound of his titles rang through the world. Sultan of sultans. Historic crowns upon the princes of the world. Shadow of God upon earth. Emperor and sovereign. Lord of the White Sea and the Black Sea. Of Rumelia and Anatolia. Of Caramania. Of the country of Rome. Kurdistan. Shem. Aleppo. Egypt. Mecca. Medina. All the countries of Arabia and Yemen. Amdolve and infinity of other provinces. Gloriously acquired. King of kings. At the height of his grandeur, Solomon had married among other women, Roxalana. In a splendid room at the palace, filled with the ripple and scent of a perfume fountain, glowing softly in the light of rose-yewed lamps, Solomon lies on a great devan. On the cushion floor beside him sits lovely Roxalana. How pleasant these cushions in your soft fingers, not to these many months of fighting in the touch of steel in my hand. Rest, my lord, that you may gather strength when next you set out to destroy your enemy. Does it please you then that your husband is a soldier as well as a sultan? Oh, my lord, each of the 13 times you have marched out through the city gates at the head of your armies, has been like a jewel in a necklace at my throat. And each time you've returned in triumph, has been another link in a chain of fine gold to bind me closer to my lord. I should give you a new name, Roxalana the Honeytongue. My lord is displeased. As well be displeased with a goldfinch that wakes me with its song. My lord, I have heard it said that you ought to set forth again. This time to conquer Persia. So the palace gossips have repeated that to your ears. This time the talk is baseless. Ibrahim Pasha, the Grand Wazir, believes it unwise. Does Ibrahim Pasha set his knowledge above that of solely men, the magnificent? He has always advised me well. But he is growing old and fearful. He is the wisest Wazir the empire has ever known. But he is not a soldier. And in his caution he has forgotten what magnificent cities, what thousands of slaves, what treasures might be added to the empire with the conquest of Persia. Roxalana, who looks like a flower, is more avid for loot than any fighting man. Oh, my lord, it is not for myself. It is for my son I look into the future. Roxalana, I have told you your son will not inherit the empire. I have two sons older than he. I cannot endure it. Forgive me, my lord. Did I say you were like a flower? Perhaps I should have said a tiger's. Oh, my lord, forgive me. But I beg you will not permit Ibrahim Pasha to keep you from adding the jewel of Persia to your crown. By Allah, if even the women of the Harim see it as a simpler thing, why should I not conquer Persia? Perhaps the Grand Wazir hopes to see you remain in this palace growing soft and feeble. So he can proclaim himself Sultan in your place. Is that what palace gossip is saying? Oh, no, my lord, no. But if you did set forth to conquer Persia, not even the Grand Wazir could... Yes, you're right. Bring the Grand Wazir to me. My lord, if you receive him here, he will think I've been speaking against him and he will be my enemy. Tell him to come at once to the small audience chamber and bring the map of Persia. You will not stay too long with the Wazir. No. And when I return, I shall have a gift for you. A necklace of pearls from the throat of a captured queen. Oh, my lord. I shall return within the hour. You call me Sultan. You may call me by name. Suleiman has already gone to order Ibrahim Pasha to prepare for war with Persia. While he is gone, I will find the way to have Ibrahim Pasha killed. Killed, Roxalana? It is he who has set Suleiman against my son because he is younger than the other two. But they are only children. They may not live. No. They may not live to rule in my son's place. Who would think a woman might choose the king of this great empire? The Persian campaign failed and with it the start of the empire waged. But the success of Roxalana's plot showed many a Sultan's favorite the way to power. Behind the silken curtains of the imperial harem, soft hands held the reins of government throughout the rule of six Sultan's in defiance of diplomats and statesmen. Reared in the tradition of the sword, the Turkish empire is swift to attack, fierce to defend its far-flung lands. But its glory is dimming. The passing centuries bring bitterness and strife to the troubled throne of the Sultans. 1830. Greece rebels. It becomes an independent kingdom. Bosnia and Albania revolt. France captures and holds Algeria. European nations begin to look fearfully upon the stricken giant of the Near East. Russia and Turkey have fought six wars. London, 1844. Buckingham Palace. Tsar Nicholas I. Talks with Queen Victoria and Israeli Prime Minister of England. Speak plainly, Your Majesty. Listed Israeli and I are accustomed to plain speech. Your Majesty. We have on our ends a very sick man. I tell you, frankly, it would be great misfortune if one of these days he should happen to die before the necessary arrangements could all be made. Turkey, the sick man of the East, eh? Precisely. Your Majesty, may I ask what medicine you would apply to revive the sick man? First, may I tell you briefly what I consider to lie at the heart of his trouble? Very well. As you know, there are many Turks who are not Mohammedan. They are constantly fighting for independence. Turkey cannot have a stable government till this question is solved. That is no concern of ours. No, Your Majesty. But you would not to care to see Turkey obstruct your route to India, would you? I am wondering whether your great concern for the sick man of Europe has anything to do with your own ambition to acquire a seaport on the Mediterranean? Your Majesty. We agree to speak plainly, I believe. May I suggest that His Majesty propose the remedy he has in mind? Very well. What is it? It is this. Turkey should be divided. Constantinople made a free city. England to be given Egypt and Crete, which would make a very valuable naval base on the Mediterranean. Then I suppose the Balkan states would go to Russia and there would be your seaport. Not at all. The Balkan states would be nominally independent, but under the protection of Russia. Of course you realize this would involve us in a war with Turkey. It would be a war, a very small moment, with conditions as they are in Turkey and three great powers united against our... Your Majesty. France would join us. I am not at all certain she would. I am sorry Your Majesty regards my proposal so unfavorably. Perhaps a little more thought will change your mind. I would like to discuss this matter again soon. Very well. Shall we say Thursday at eleven? Yes. I should like to have your answer before I return to Russia. You shall have it. Until Thursday then. It would be madness, Israeli. I cannot help believing if the Tsar advocates such drastic measures, he will rouse all Europe against him. Between you and me, I distrust the Russians. As for Turkey obstructing our route to India, I prefer Turkey to Russia. Then you will give the Tsar a definite refusal? Yes. And let him know we are quite prepared to go further if necessary. The sick man of Europe may well prove to be Russia, not Turkey. Back to Russia goes Nicholas, brooding over Victoria's refusal. In the face of England's ultimatum, Russia fires on a Turkish port, provokes the Crimean War. Slowly the Turkish Empire crumbles away. Led by Mohammed Ali, Egypt revolts, wins Crete, Tripoli and Damascus. The Navy mutinies. Admiral Ahmed Pasha surrenders the Turkish fleet to Mohammed Ali. Syria breaks away from Turkey. The Balkan states rebel, gained their freedom. One by one, her conquered lands set free. Turkey loses her last fierce fight in the World War. Faced with rebellion and anarchy, Sultan Mohammed VI sits in his palace at Constantinople, looking out over his defenseless city as he listens to a British representative. It is for your Majesty to choose, but it seems to my government that you would well accept our offer. There is no need for England to remind me that Mustafa Kemal and his organization calling themselves the Young Turks are completing the ruin brought upon my country by the Allies. I would remind your Majesty that Turkey chose to take the side of Germany at war in the face of the fact that England has repeatedly come to the aid of Turkey in the past. My brother was Sultan then. Not I. It seems unfair that an entire empire should suffer for the decision of one man even if he is Sultan. What is your government's offer? Will your Majesty come to the window with me? The window? Certainly. Down in the harbor is the British ship Malaya. You can see her from here. Just to the right of that minaret over the treetops. I see it. She sails tonight for Malta. So, your offer is abdication, exile. Rather shall we say refuge. You will not be likely to save yourself if you remain. You suggest that I choose between attempting to save my country and the certainty that I will save my city. You must know, if you remain in Turkey, Mustafa Kemal will order your execution. Do you know that for seven hundred years a member of my family has been Sultan Turkey? I know. Worst of all, you know I am a coward and I will accept this humiliating offer rather than face execution from Mustafa Kemal. Yes, I will go. But get out of my sight. Get out. I wish I might never look upon a cursed British face again. And so the days of glory departed from Turkey. And now our steamer is waiting in the harbor of Smyrna on the Aegean coast. Here, as in all Turkey under the modern regime of Mustafa Kemal, women have left the harem and walk unveiled through the ancient streets. Gone too are the fares in the turban banished by Kemal's decree. In the schools, the children learn the Roman characters of the West, not the flowing Arabic script of their ancestors. Turkey has sprung from the Middle Ages to the 20th century in ten years. Still in the ruins of Roman temples and theaters, benders of rugs, olives and oranges cry their wares as we pass. We're homeward bound once more from another journey to ports of call. We invite you to join us again next week in this time as we journey to another of the world's fascinating ports of call.