Constantinople: A Sketch of its History from its Foundation to its Conquest by the Turks in 1453/Chapter 10
CHAPTER X.
THE LATIN EMPIRE.
EFORE the final assault upon the city, Dandolo insisted upon an agreement as to the partition of the empire. It was quite understood by the Venetians, who proved in the sequel to have entirely misapprehended the resources, the strength, and the weakness of the Byzantine possessions, that he who held Constantinople held the key of the East. It was their policy not to be the holders of the key, because those who held had to defend; but to be on such terms of friendship with the holders as did not necessarily mean an alliance, so that, should a change of masters take place, the Venetians might be fettered by no troublesome bonds of obligation. Venice fought for her own hand. Other nations were continually led astray by illusory hopes of allies and friends bound by ties of gratitude. And yet even to this nineteenth century, and the middle of it, treaties have proved useless, when the interest of any signatory power was backed by strength. Nor can we wonder at the perfidy of the middle ages, when we have seen the perfidy of Russia; we can hardly even blame the interested diplomacy of Dandolo, when we have seen ourselves, in this very year of grace, the noblest eloquence of England's greatest statesman encouraging England's most persistent and most dangerous enemy. Treaties are as the smoke of a tobacco-pipe, when strength and interest point in the same direction. By the persistent breach of sacred treaties Rome destroyed Carthage; and in modern days it seems as if national obligations may be repudiated if only a political opponent can be thwarted and embarrassed.
The Latins in command of Constantinople, it became necessary then to proceed at once to the partition of the Roman empire. It had been agreed by Dandolo on the one hand, and Baldwin, Boniface, and the Counts of Blois and St. Pol on the other, that one full quarter of the whole dominion was to be assigned to the Latin emperor, who was to be elected by Venetians and Crusaders. There remained three-quarters. Of this Venice was to have a moiety, and the rest was to be divided somehow among the Crusaders. Not a word about Jerusalem or the Holy Places. Even the acquisition of that share of the 300,000 marks which fell to each soldier failed to stimulate the Crusaders to the accomplishment of their vows.
First of all, however, they proceeded to elect an emperor.
Venice wanted no dignity of that kind, nor could any dignity be bestowed upon the nonagenarian Dandolo greater than that which he actually enjoyed as Doge of his native Republic. He accepted, however, the title of Despot of Romania. The emperor must therefore be chosen from among the French or Flemings. Two of the chiefs might show strong claims for the choice. Of these two, the Marquis of Montferrat, who at first seemed the most likely to be chosen, was already connected by means of his brother's marriage with the late reigning dynasty of Constantinople. He was, besides, proved to be a valorous soldier and a prudent general. On the other hand, Baldwin, the Count of Flanders, a younger man, had displayed all the prowess of his rival, and was personally more popular. Besides, the larger part of the army consisted of his own people, Flemings. There was therefore no surprise when the council of election announced that their choice had fallen upon Baldwin, and his rival was among the first to acknowledge the validity of the election. The Marquis of Montferrat obtained for his prize Crete and the Asiatic part of the empire. As, however, he discovered that the latter part of the Byzantine realm would require to be conquered, he exchanged it for the kingdom of Thessalonica. The Greek empire had at one blow fallen to pieces. What the Crusaders had conquered was that part of the country now called Roumelia. Across the Dardanelles, Theodore Lascaris established himself as emperor at Nicæa; an Alexis of the Comnenan House, a son of Manuel Comnenus, created an empire for himself at Trebizond; another established himself as Despot of Epirus; and the other two wandering emperors—Alexis III. and Alexis V., the Beetle-browed—joined their forces, in the hope of keeping the Latins out of the north-west provinces. But these two past masters in duplicity could not, even in misfortune, trust one another, and Alexis III., the craftier, if not the stronger of the two vagabond usurpers, seized his ally, put out his eyes, and handed him over to the Latins. They went through the formality of a trial, and found him guilty of the murder of Alexis IV. He was sentenced to death, and after a good deal of discussion it was decided that the manner of his death should be by being hurled from the top of a lofty column, and this was accordingly done.
As for Alexis III., after a great variety of adventures he finally fell into the hands of his son-in-law, Theodore Lascaris, who shut him up in a monastery, where his troubled life came to an end.
Baldwin began his reign by sending a conciliatory letter to the pope. He had not, it is true, attempted to carry out the vows which he and his brother croisés had taken upon themselves. Palestine still groaned under the yoke of the infidel. At the same time, the Pope could not but feel gratified at the extinction of the Greek schism and the restoration of the unity of Christendom. That event was undoubtedly due to him, and the pope acknowledged it in a careful letter, which left him free at any time to express his disapprobation of the course pursued by the Crusaders. To the king of France Baldwin wrote, inviting the French knights to find their way to this new scene of conquest and glory. To Palestine he sent promises of assistance, with, as tokens of his power, the gates of Constantinople, and the chain which barred the port.
And then, the empire being fairly parcelled out, the Marquis of Montferrat took his knights and men-at-arms to establish his own kingdom of Thessalonica. Other chiefs, who had obtained each his own part of the Byzantine territories, went off to conquer them for themselves; and the Greeks began to perceive that they were ruled by a mere handful of Latin adventurers, only to be dreaded when they were together, and now scattered in small garrisons and feeble bands all about the country. When this knowledge was thoroughly acquired, troubles began to befall the new empire.
These troubles were originated, however, not by the Greeks but by the Bulgarians, and were due to the arrogance and pride of Baldwin. John, or Kalo-John, or Joannice, as he is variously called, king of this savage people, was of the Latin Church. Being as orthodox as he was barbarous, he rejoiced mightily at the fall of the Greeks, and sent an embassy of congratulation to the new Latin emperor. Weak as he was upon his unstable throne, Baldwin actually had the folly and impudence to assault these ambassadors, to treat them as rebels, and to send a message to their master, that before his servants could be received at the Byzantine court, he must first deserve pardon by touching with his forehead the footstool of the imperial throne. It was not likely that a high-spirited and independent sovereign would brook such a message. He instantly threw the whole weight of his influence and strength into the cause of the Greeks, and with their leaders concerted a scheme of general and simultaneous massacre, worthy of his barbarism and their treachery. The secret was well kept. The conspirators were in no hurry to strike the blow. They waited patiently till a time when it seemed as if the force of the Latins was at the lowest, that is, when Prince Henry, brother of the emperor, had crossed the Hellespont with the flower of the troops. The empire in Europe was covered with thin and sparse garrisons; there were no forces in Constantinople to come to their succour should they try to hold out; they might be taken in detail and at once. And then those Byzantine Vespers began. It was a revolt of thousands against tens; there was a great slaughter, a rush of the little bands who escaped, upon Adrianople, where there was a fresh slaughter; and while the Greeks were up in successful revolt, the Bulgarians, accompanied by a savage band of 14,000 Comans, invaded the country, mad for pillage and revenge.
The position was one of extreme peril. Baldwin sent messengers to his brother, ordering him to return in all haste, and then made such hasty preparations as were possible, and sallied forth to the siege of Adrianople. Had he waited for Henry's return all might have gone well with him, but he would not wait. It was the rule of the Crusaders never to refuse battle, whatever the odds, a rule to which their greatest victories as well as their greatest disasters were chiefly due. What Godfrey did before Ascalon, Baldwin was ready to do before Adrianople. He had with him no more than a hundred and forty knights, with three trains of archers and men-at-arms—say a couple of thousand men in all. The gallant Villehardouin, Marshal of Romania, who was destined to survive this day and write its story, led the vanguard. The main body, with whom was Baldwin, was commanded by the Count of Blois; the rear was brought up by old Dandolo. The slender ranks of the little army were continually being recruited by the accession of the fugitive remains of the garrisons. On the way to Adrianople they met the light cavalry of the Comans. Orders were given not to pursue these light horsemen, who fought after the manner of the Parthians. In a solid phalanx the Western knights were able to face any odds, but scattered and dispersed, they would fall beneath the weight of numbers.
The order insisted on by Dandolo, who knew this kind of enemy, was broken by no others than the emperor himself and the Count of Blois. The Comans, as usual, fled at the first charge of the heavily-armed knights, who spurred after them, regardless of the order, and led by the emperor. When they had ridden a mile or so, when their horses were breathed, then the Comans closed in on the little band of knights, and the unequal contest began of a hundred and forty against fourteen thousand. Some few struggled out of the melée and found their way back to the rest of the army. Most fell upon the field. Among these was the Count of Blois. A few were taken prisoners, among whom was the emperor.
No one ever knew his fate. The wildest stories were told of this unfortunate prince. His hands and feet, it was said, were cut off, and he was exposed, mutilated, to the wild animals; he was beheaded; he enacted the part of Joseph, Potiphar's wife being King John's queen. Nothing was too wild to be believed about him. Twenty years later a hermit of the Netherlands thought it would be possible to pass himself off as the real Baldwin, who had escaped from captivity, and was thus expiating his early sins. He obtained the fate from justice and the sympathy from the vulgar which have commonly been the lot of pretenders. Whatever the real end of this emperor, King John wrote a year later to the pope, calmly informing him that his intercession for Baldwin was no longer of any use, because he was no longer living. Then it was, and not till then, that his brother, Henry of Flanders, consented to assume the title of emperor.
Already the leaders of the Crusade, who only three years before had set sail so proudly from Venice, were dead or on the point of death. Baldwin murdered in captivity; the Count of Blois killed on the field of battle; Dandolo dead, at the age, say some writers, of a hundred, in the year 1205; the Marquis of Montferrat about to be slain in an obscure skirmish with the barbarous Bulgarians. Henry stood alone, save for the faithful Geoffrey de Villehardouin, Marshal of Champagne and Romania, who, though his narrative ceases at this point, is believed to have remained with the new emperor.
His reign lasted for ten years only. It was a reign of successful, brave, and prudent administration in things military, civil, and ecclesiastical. Its success was greatly assisted by the fact that very early in his reign the Greeks discovered the mistake they had made in changing the rule of the Latins for the rule of the Bulgarians. The first were hard masters, with rough rude ways, and little sympathy with the culture of the Byzantines; but the latter proposed, as soon as the Latins were driven south, to exterminate the population of Thrace, or at least to transplant the Greeks beyond the Balkans. They called upon the emperor to forgive them, and to help them. Henry, with a little army of 800 knights, with archers and men-at-arms, perhaps 5,000 in all, made no scruple of going out to attack this disorderly mob of 40,000 Bulgarians. As no mention is made of the Comans, it is presumable that these had gone home again with their booty. At the siege of Thessalonica King John was murdered—slain by no less a person than St. Demetrius himself, said the Greeks—and a peace was concluded between his successor and Henry. The last years of this exemplary monarch's life were spent in wise administration. He checked the zeal of the pope's legate, and would not countenance persecution about the double procession and other controverted dogmas. He checked the pretensions of the clergy, by placing his throne on the same level with that of the patriarch, whereas it had formerly been lower; and he prohibited the alienation of fiefs, which would have handed over the patrimony of the knights to the Church, and turned, as Gibbon says, a colony of soldiers into a college of priests.
When he died childless, the next heir to the empire was his sister Yolande, who had married Peter of Courtenay, Count of Auxerre, a member of that princely house which still survives in the line of the English earls of Devon. It was an unfortunate day for that prince when he accepted the crown which had already in ten years carried off two of his brothers. Yet the chance was splendid. What count or duke or knight of these days but would seize a crown thus offered, however great the peril? He accepted the crown, then, and, to make a worthy appearance on entering into possession, he either mortgaged or sold the best part of ten estates, and raised, with the help of Philip Augustus, an army of 140 knights and 5,500 men-at-arms and archers. He persuaded the pope, Honorius III., to crown him, it being understood that, as emperor of the East, he had no claim to jurisdiction or right over Rome; and following the example of Baldwin, engaged the Venetians to convey him and his army to Constantinople. They would do so on similar terms and for a consideration. Let him first recover for them the port of Durazzo from the Despot of Epirus. This was no longer Michael, the founder of the kingdom, but his brother Theodore. The emperor delivered his assault on Durazzo, and was unsuccessful. Then the Venetians refused the transports. Peter thereupon made an agreement with the Despot Theodore, by which the latter undertook to convey him and his army safely to his dominion over land. It is another story of Greek treachery. The emperor with his troops, while in the mountains, was attacked by Greeks of Theodore's army. Such of his men as did not surrender, were cut to pieces. He himself was taken prisoner, detained for two years, and then put to death in some mysterious way. Yolande, the empress, while yet she was uncertain of the fate of her lord, gave birth to a son, the most unfortunate Baldwin.[1]
The eldest of Yolande's sons, Philip de Courtenay, had the singular good sense and good fortune to decline the offered crown. He found plenty of fighting in Europe of an equally adventurous kind, and less treacherous than that among the Greeks. The second son, Robert, accepted the responsibilities and dangers of the position. For seven years he held the sceptre with a trembling hand amid all kinds of disasters. The Despot of Epirus, the treacherous Theodore, swept across the country as far as Adrianople, where he raised his standard and called himself emperor. Vatatces, the successor of Theodore Lascaris, seized upon the last relics of the Asiatic possessions, intercepted Western succour, actually persuaded a large body of French mercenaries to serve under him, constructed a fleet, and obtained the command of the Dardanelles. A personal and private outrage of the grossest kind, offered to the unfortunate emperor by an obscure knight, drove him in rage and despair from the city. He sought refuge in Italy, but was recalled by his barons, and was on his way back to Constantinople when he was seized with some malady which killed him. It is a miserable record of a weak and miserable life.
On his death, his brother Baldwin being still a boy, the barons looked about them for a stronger hand to rule the tottering state. They found the man they wanted in gallant old John de Brienne, the last of those who raised themselves from simple knightly rank to a royal palace. The House of Brienne in France ranked next to that of Montmorency, and with that noble House was among the most illustrious of those which graced the early mediæval period. They furnished marshals, constables, and generals for the crown of France; like the Courtenays, they went outre mer for crowns. Gauthier de Brienne was King of Sicily and Duke of Apulia. John himself, one of the last specimens of the great crusading heroes, was titular King of Jerusalem, having married Constance, daughter of Isabelle and granddaughter of Amaury.[2] Philip Augustus himself selected John de Brienne as the most worthy knight to become the husband of Constance and the King of Jerusalem. He was now an old man of more than seventy years. His daughter, Yolande, was married to Frederick II., who had assumed the title of King of Jerusalem. But old as he was, he was still of commanding stature and martial bearing. His arm had lost none of its strength, nor his brain any of its vigour. He accepted the crown on the understanding that the young Baldwin, then eleven years of age, should join him as emperor on coming of age.
Great things were expected from so stout a soldier. Yet for two years nothing was done. Then the emperor was roused into action.
It was understood at Constantinople that Vatatces, the successor of Theodore Lascaris, was on the point of concluding an alliance, offensive and defensive, with Agan, King of the Bulgarians and successor of John. The alliance could have but one meaning, the destruction of the Latin empire. It must be remembered that the vast Roman empire of the East was shrunken in its dimensions to the city of Constantinople and that narrow strip of territory commanded by her walls, her scanty armies, and her diminished fleets. Of territory, indeed, the Latin empire had none in the sense of lands producing revenue. What they held, was held with the drawn sword in the hand ready for use. The kingdom of Thessalonica was gone; and though the Dukedoms, Marquisates, and Countships of Achaia, Athens, Sparta, and other independent petty states were still held by the emperors or their sons, they were like the outlying provinces of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, Edessa, Tripoli, and the rest, a source of weakness rather than of strength. Little help, if any, could be looked for from them.
Of course the Latin empire of Constantinople was a thing which never ought to have existed, and which could not, in the nature of things, endure. Like its predecessor of Jerusalem, it maintained an uncertain existence by continually attracting recruits from the West. When the supply of men began to fail; when the attention of France was diverted by the holy wars of their saintly King Louis; when Flanders was exhausted, or when the Flemish sympathies perished with the death of Henry, then the end of the empire was not far distant. The early deaths of the knights show, too, how fatal was the climate and the life.
The alliance, however, was concluded, and the allies, with an immense army, estimated at a hundred thousand, besides three hundred ships of war, sat down before the city and besieged it by sea and land. The incident that follows reads like a story from the history of Amadis de Gaul. Gibbon says that he "trembles" to relate it. While this immense host lay outside his walls; while thirty ships armed with their engines of war menaced his long line of seaward defences in the narrow strait, brave old John de Brienne, who had but 160 knight, with their following of men-at-arms and archers—say a couple of thousand in all—led forth his little band, and at one furious onset routed the besieging army. Probably it was mainly composed of the Bulgarian hordes, undisciplined, badly armed, and, like all such hosts, liable to panic. Perhaps, too, the number of the enemy was by no means so great as is reported, nor were the forces of John de Brienne so small. There is no necessity to detract from what was clearly as gallant a fight as was ever fought, but heroic proportions which are credible and possible are more likely to be accepted than those which belong only to a giant. Nor was his success limited to the rout of the army, for the citizens, encouraged by their flight, attacked the ships, and succeeded in dragging five and twenty of them within the port. It would appear that the Bulgarians renewed their attempt in the following year, and were again defeated by the old emperor. It would have been well for the Latins had his age been less. He died in the year 1237, and young Baldwin, who was married to his daughter Martha, became sole emperor. John de Brienne made so great a name, that he was compared with Ajax, Odin the Dane, Hector, Roland, and Judas Maccabæus. Baldwin, who came after him, might have been compared with any of those kinglings who succeeded Charlemagne, and sat in their palaces while the empire fell to pieces.
His incapacity is proved, if by nothing else, by his singular and uniform ill-luck. If after the fight of life is over, no single valiant blow can be remembered, the record is a sorry one indeed. Baldwin's difficulties were, it must be owned, very great: they were so great, that for a considerable portion of the four and twenty years during which he wore the Roman purple his crown was left him by sufferance. And his manner of reigning was to travel about Europe begging for money. The pope proclaimed a Crusade for him, but it was extremely difficult to awaken general enthusiasm for a Courtenay in danger of being overthrown by a Lascaris; and the other point, the submission of Constantinople to Rome in things ecclesiastical, could not be said to touch the popular sentiment at all. The Pope, however, supplemented his exhortation by bestowing upon the indigent emperor a treasure of indulgences, which he no doubt sold at their marketable value, whatever that was. One fears that it was not much. From England he obtained, after an open insult at Dover, the sum of 700 marks, which, at the purchasing value we have estimated roughly,[3] represents about £12,500, a small contribution towards the maintenance of an empire. Louis IX. of France would have rendered him substantial assistance, but for the more pressing claims of the Holy Land and his project for delivering the Holy Places by a new method. His brother-in-law, Frederick II., excommunicated by the Church, was not likely to manifest any enthusiasm for an ecclesiastical cause; and those allies from whom he might have expected substantial aid, the Venetians, were at war with the Genoese; the Prince of Achaia was in captivity, and the feeble son of Boniface, King of Thessalonica (the sons of all these sturdy Crusaders were feeble, like the Syrian pullani, sons of Godfrey's heroes) had been deposed. Yet money and men must be raised, or the city must be abandoned. A wise man would have handed over the empire to any who dared defend it. Baldwin was not a wise man. He proceeded to sell the remaining lands of Courtenay and the marquisate of Namur, and by this and other expedients managed to return with an army of 30,000 men. What would not Baldwin I., or Henry his uncle, or John de Brienne his father-in-law, have been able to effect with an army of 30,000 soldiers of the West? But Baldwin the Incapable did next to nothing.
By this time the strip of country remaining to the emperor was only that immediately surrounding the city. All the rest was in the hands of Greek or of Bulgarian. When these were at war, the city was safe; when these were united, the city was every moment in danger of falling.
Baldwin used his new recruits in gaining possession of the country for a distance of three days' journey round his capital—about sixty miles in all—which was something. But how was the position to be maintained, or to be improved? There were no revenues in that bankrupt city, from whose port the trade had passed away, and which had lost the command of the narrow seas. What was the condition of the citizens, we know not. That of the imperial household was such, that the emperor's servants were fain to demolish empty houses for fuel, and to strip churches of the lead upon their roofs to supply the daily wants of his family. He sent his son Philip to Venice as security for a debt; he borrowed at enormous interest of the merchants of Italy; and when all else failed, and the money which he had raised at such ruinous sacrifices had melted away, and his soldiers were clamouring for pay, he remembered the holy relics yet remaining to the city, in spite of the cartloads carried off during the great sack of 1204, and resolved to raise more money upon them.
There was, first of all, the Crown of Thorns. This had been already pledged in Venice for the sum of 13,134 pieces of gold to the Venetians. As the money was spent and the relic could not be redeemed within the time, the Venetians were preparing to seize it. They would have been within their right. But Baldwin conceived an idea, so clever that it must have been suggested by a Greek, which, if successfully carried out, would result in the attainment of much more money by its means. He would give it to Louis IX. of France. A relic of such importance might be pawned, it might be given, but it could not be sold. Therefore Baldwin gave it to King Louis. By this plan the Venetians were tricked of their relic, on which they had counted; the debt was transferred to France, which easily paid it; the precious object itself, to which Frederick II. granted a free passage through his dominions, was conveyed by Dominican friars to Troyes, whither the French court advanced to receive it, and a gift of 10,000 marks reconciled Baldwin and his barons to their loss. After all, as the prospects of the State were so gloomy, it might be some consolation to them to reflect that so sacred a relic—which had this great advantage over the wood of the True Cross, that it had not been and could not be multiplied until it became equal in bulk to the wood of a three-decker—was consigned to the safe custody of the most Christian King of France.
This kind of traffic once begun, and proving profitable, there was no reason why it should not continue. Accordingly, the Crown of Thorns was followed by a large and very authentic piece of the True Cross. St. Louis gave Baldwin 20,000 marks as an honorarium for the gift of this treasure, which he deposited in the Sainte Chapelle. Here it remained, occasionally working miracles, as every bit of the True Cross was bound to do, until the troubles of the League, when it was mysteriously stolen. Most likely some Huguenot laid hands upon it, and took the same kind of delight in burning it that he took in throwing the consecrated wafer to the pigs.
And then more relics were found and disposed of. There was the baby linen of our Lord; there was the lance which pierced His side; there was the sponge with which they gave Him to drink; there was the chain with which His hands had been fettered; all these things, priceless, inestimable, wonder-working, Baldwin sent to Paris in exchange for marks of silver. And then there were relics of less holiness, but still commanding the respect and adoration of Christians—these also were hunted up and sent. Among them were the rod of Moses, and a portion—alas! a portion only—of the skull of John the Baptist. Thirty or forty thousand marks for all these treasures. And it seems but a poor result of the conquest of Constantinople by the Latins that all which came of it was the transference of relics from the East to the West. Nothing else. Such order as the later Greek emperors had preserved, changed into anarchy and misrule; such commerce as naturally flowed from Asia into the Golden Horn, diverted and lost; a strange religion imposed upon an unwilling people; the break up of the old Roman forms; the destruction by fire of a third of the city; the disappearance of the ancient Byzantine families; the ruin of the wealthy; the depression of the middle classes; the impoverishment of the already poor; the decay and loss of learning; these were the things which the craft and subtlety of Dandolo, working on the Franks' lust of conquest, had brought about for the proud city of the East.
But the end was drawing daily nearer.
Vatatces of Nicæa died. He was succeeded by his son Theodore, on whose death the crown of Nicæa devolved upon an infant. The child was speedily, though not immediately, openly dethroned by the regent, Michael Palæologus. When at length the imperial title was assumed by the latter, Baldwin thought it advisable to attempt negotiations with him. His ambassadors were received with open contumely. Michael would give the Latins nothing. "Tell your master," he said, "that if he be desirous of peace, he must pay me, as an annual tribute, the sum which he receives from the trade and customs of Constantinople. On these terms I may allow him to reign. If he refuses, it will be war."
That was in the year 1259.
Michael, no putter forth of empty and boastful words, prepared immediately for the coming war. So in his feeble way did Baldwin. But his money was spent, his recruits were melting away, the Venetians alone were his allies, and the Genoese had joined the Greeks. And yet Michael did not know—so great was the terror of the Frank and Flemish name which the great Baldwin, Henry of Flanders, and John de Brienne had left behind them—how weak was the Latin empire, how unstable were the defences of the city.
Michael (a.d. 1260) marched into Thrace, strengthened the garrisons, and expelled the Latins yet remaining in the country. Had he, the same year, marched upon Constantinople, the city would have been his. But the glory of taking the city was destined for one of his generals.
The Greek emperor, returning to Nicæa, sent Alexis Strategopoulos, his most trusted general, on whom he had conferred the title of Cæsar, to take the command of his armies in Europe. He laid strict orders upon him to enter the Latin territory as soon as the existing truce was concluded; to watch, report, act upon the defensive, if necessary, but nothing more.
Now the lands round Constantinople had been sold by their Latin seigneurs to Greek cultivators, who, to defend their property, formed themselves into an armed militia, called voluntaries. With these voluntaries Alexis opened communications, and was by their aid enabled to get accurate information of all that went on among the Latins. As soon as the truce expired, he marched his troops across the frontier, and approached the city. His force—doubtless the Latins were badly served by their spies—seemed too small to inspire any serious alarm, and the Latins, who had recently received succour from Venice which made them confident, resolved on striking the first blow by an attack on the port of Daphnusia. They accordingly despatched a force of 6,000 men, with thirty galleys, leaving the city almost bare of defenders.
This, then, was the moment for successful treachery. One Koutrilzakes, a Greek voluntary, secured the assistance of certain friends within the town. Either a subterranean passage was to be opened to the Greeks, or they were to be assured of friends upon the walls. Alexis at dead of night brought his army close to the city. At midnight, against a certain stipulated spot the scaling-ladders were placed, where there were none but traitors to receive the men; at the same time, the passage was traversed, and Alexis found himself within the walls of the city. By a similar manœuvre did the Spaniards rob King René, two hundred years later, of his city of Naples. They broke open the Gate of the Fountain; they admitted the Greek men-at-arms and the Coman auxiliaries before the alarm was given; and by daylight the Greeks had complete command of the land wall, and were storming the imperial palace. There was one chance left for Baldwin. He might have betaken himself to the Venetians, and held their quarter until the unlucky expedition to Daphnusia returned, when they might have expelled the Greeks, or made at least an honourable capitulation. But Baldwin was not the man to fight a lost or losing battle. He hastily fled to the port, embarked on board a vessel, and set sail for Eubœa. In the deserted palace the Greek soldiers found sceptre, crown, and sword, the imperial insignia, and carried them in mockery through the streets.
While Baldwin was flying from the palace to the port, behind him and around him was the tramp of the rude Coman barbarians, proclaiming that the city was taken. The houses, hastily thrown open as the first streaks of the summer day lit up the sky, resounded with the acclamations of those, yesterday his own subjects, who welcomed the new comers with cries of "Long live Michael the Emperor of the Romans!" The House of Courtenay had played its last card and lost the game. Pity that it was thrown away by so poor a player.
It matters little about the end of Baldwin. He got safely to Eubœa, thence to Rome, and lived twelve or thirteen years longer in obscurity. When he died, his only son Philip assumed the empty title of emperor of Constantinople, which, Gibbon says, "too bulky and sonorous for a private name, modestly expired in silence and oblivion." It took, however, a long time to expire. Two hundred and fifty years later one of its last holders was the inheritor of so many shadowy claims that his very name in history is blurred by them. René of Anjou gave himself, among other titles, that of emperor of Constantinople.
Constantinople was taken, and the Latin empire destroyed at a blow. There were, however, still remaining the Venetian merchants, who had the command of the port, and who might, by holding out until the return of the ships from Daphnusia, undo all. Alexis set fire to their houses, but was careful to leave their communications with the vessels unmolested. They had therefore nothing left but to secure the safety of their wives, families, and movable property, which they did by embarking them on board the ships. And when the Daphnusian expedition returned, they found to their surprise that the Greeks held the whole city except a small portion near the port, and had manned the walls. A hasty truce was arranged; the merchants loaded every ship with their families and their property; the Latin fleet sailed down the Dardanelles, and the Latin empire in the East was at an end.
It began with violence and injustice: it ended as it began. There were six Latin Emperors, of whom the first was a gallant soldier; the second, a sovereign of admirable qualities, and an able administrator; the third, a plain French knight, who was murdered on his way to assume the purple buskins; the fourth, a weak and pusillanimous creature; the fifth, a stout old warrior; and the last a monarch of whom nothing good can be said and nothing evil, except that which was said of Boabdil, called El Chico, that he was unlucky; and bad luck is another name for incapacity. As the Latins never had the slightest right or title to these possessions in the East, so the Western powers were never impelled to assist them, and their downfall was merely a matter of time. In the interests of civilisation their occupation of the city seems to have been unfortunate; they learned nothing for themselves, they taught nothing; neither East nor West profited. They destroyed the old institutions, so that the ancient Roman Empire was broken up by their conquest; they inflicted irreparable losses on learning and art; and perhaps the only good result of their conquest was that for the moment at least it deflected the course of trade with the East from the Golden Horn, and sent it by another route to Venice, Genoa, and Pisa. As for the substitution of the Latin for the Greek Church, the change was only one from a blind and literal formalism to a blind and ignorant subjection to priestcraft.
- ↑ The following genealogy may be useful:—
Baldwin I., succeeded by his brother Henry, succeeded by his sister Yolande Peter of Courtenay. Philip. Robert. Baldwin II. - ↑ The following genealogy explains the succession of the crown of Jerusalem. It is taken from Baldwin II., who was a cousin of Godfrey and Baldwin I.
Baldwin II. Millicent Fulke. Baldwin III. Amaury. Baldwin IV. William of Montferrat Sybille Guy de Lusignan. Isabelle Conrad de Montferrat. Baldwin V. John of Brienne Constance. Alice. Hugh de Lusignan. Yolande Frederick II. - ↑ See page 164.