Martin Litz, at first, returned to the Christians of Palestine, who

had sent him to Constantinople; and, a short time after, came back

to Europe, loaded with spoils obtained from the clergy of Byzantium.

Among the relics he exhibited on his return, were, a piece of the true

cross, the bones of St. John the Baptist, and an arm of St. James. The

miraculous translation of this treasure is celebrated with much pomp

by the monk Gunther, in whom it created more surprise and joy than

the conquest of a great empire. If we may credit the account of the

German monk, angels descended from heaven to watch over the relics of

Martin Litz. On the route of the holy abbot, the tempests of the ocean

were silent, pirates were struck motionless, and robbers, those pests

of travellers, stopped short, seized with respect and fear. At length

Martin Litz was received in triumph at Bâle, and the treasures he had

preserved through so many perils, were distributed among the principal

churches of the diocese.

Another priest, named Galon de Dampierre, of the diocese of Langres,

less adroit or less fortunate than Martin Litz, had not been able to

obtain any share of the spoils of the churches; he went and threw

himself at the feet of the pope’s legate, and implored him, with tears

in his eyes, to permit him to carry back to his country the head of

St. Mames. A third ecclesiastic of Picardy, having found the head of

St. George, and the head of St. John the Baptist, concealed among

the ruins, hastened to quit Constantinople, and, laden with such a

rich prize, presented to the cathedral of Amiens, his country, the

inestimable relics of which Providence had made him the possessor.

The princes and barons did not despise these holy spoils. Dandolo,

receiving as his share[143] a piece of the true cross, which the

emperor Constantine was accustomed to have borne before him to battle,

made a present of it to the republic of Venice. Baldwin kept for

himself the crown of thorns of Christ, and several other relics found

in the palace of Bucoleon. He sent Philip Augustus, king of France,

a portion of the true cross, a foot in length; some of the hair of

Jesus Christ, when an infant; and the linen in which the Man-God was

enveloped in the stable in which he was born.

The Greek priests and monks, thus plundered by the conquerors, parted

with tears from the remains of the saints that had been confided to

their keeping, and which every day cured the sick, made the lame to

walk, restored sight to the blind, and strength to the paralytic. These

holy spoils, that the devotion of the faithful had gathered together

from all the countries of the East, went to illustrate the churches

of France and Italy, and were received by the Christians of the West

as the most glorious trophies of the victories God had enabled the

Crusaders to obtain.

Constantinople fell into the power of the Latins on the 10th of April,

towards the end of Lent. The marshal of Champagne, after relating some

of the scenes we have described, says with great simplicity, “Thus

passed the splendid festivities of Easter.” The clergy called the

Crusaders to penitence; the voice of religion made itself heard in

hearts hardened by victory; the soldiers crowded to the churches they

had devastated, and celebrated the sufferings and death of Christ upon

the wrecks of his own altars.

This solemn epoch without doubt inspired some generous sentiments; all

the Latins were not deaf to the language of the charity of the Gospel.

We feel bound here to admit that the greater part of the knights and

ecclesiastics protected the liberty and lives of the citizens, and

the honour of matrons and virgins; but such was the spirit that then

possessed the warriors, that all the Crusaders allowed themselves to

be overcome by the thirst for booty; and the leaders, equally with

the soldiers, exercised, without hesitation or scruple, the right

which their victory had given them of plundering the conquered. It

was agreed that all the spoils should be deposited in three churches,

selected for the purpose; and the leaders commanded the Crusaders to

bring, in common, the whole of the booty, and threatened with death

and excommunication all who should abstract anything from the prize of

the valour, and the recompense due to the labours of the whole army.

Many soldiers, and even some knights, allowed themselves to be led away

by avarice, and retained valuable objects that fell into their hands.

“Which,” says the marshal of Champagne, “made the Lord to begin to

love them less.” The justice of the counts and barons was inflexible

towards the guilty; the count of St. Pol ordered one of his knights,

who had withheld something from the common stock of booty, to be hung,

with his escutcheon suspended from his neck.[144] Thus the Greeks,

plundered by violence, might be present at the punishment of some of

the ravishers of their property, and might contemplate with surprise

the regulations of stern equity mingled with the disorders of victory

and pillage. After the festival of Easter, the Crusaders shared the

captured riches; the fourth part of the spoil was set aside for him who

should be chosen emperor, and the rest was divided among the French and

the Venetians. The French Crusaders, who had conquered Zara, to the

sole advantage of the Venetians, were not the less called upon to pay

the fifty thousand silver marks they owed to the republic; the amount

was deducted beforehand from the portion of the booty that belonged to

them. In the division that was made among the warriors of Lombardy,

Germany, and France, each knight had a part equal to that of two

horsemen, and every horseman one equal to that of two foot-soldiers.

All the plunder of the Greeks only yielded[145] four hundred thousand

silver marks; but although this sum far exceeded the revenues of all

the kingdoms of the West, it did not by any means represent the value

of the riches accumulated in Byzantium. If the princes and barons, upon

making themselves masters of the city, had been satisfied with imposing

a tribute upon the inhabitants, they might have received a much larger

sum; but this pacific manner of obtaining wealth agreed neither with

their character nor the humour they were in. History asserts that the

Venetians, in this circumstance, offered them some very prudent advice,

and made propositions that were rejected with scorn. The Frank warriors

could not condescend to submit the advantages of victory to commercial

calculations; the produce of pillage was always, in their eyes, the

most worthy fruit of conquest, and the most noble reward of valour.

When they had thus shared the rich plunder of the Eastern empire, the

Crusaders gave way to the most extravagant joy, without perceiving that

they had committed a great fault in exhausting a country which was

about to become their own; they did not reflect that the ruin of the

conquered might one day bring on that of the conquerors, and that they

might become as poor as the Greeks they had just despoiled. Without

regrets, as without foresight, hoping everything from their own good

swords, they set about electing a leader who should reign over a people

in mourning and a desolated city. The imperial purple had still the

same splendour in their eyes, and the throne, though shaken by their

arms, was still the object of their ambition. Six electors were chosen

from among the Venetian nobles, and six others from among the French

ecclesiastics, to give a master to Constantinople; the twelve electors

assembled in the palace of Bucoleon, and swore, upon the Gospel, to

crown only merit and virtue.

Three of the principal leaders of the crusade had equal claims to

the suffrages of the electors. If the purple was to be the reward of

experience, of ability in council, and of services rendered to the

cause of the Latins, Henry Dandolo, who had been the moving spirit,

the very soul of the enterprise, certainly had the first claim to

it. The marquis of Montferrat, likewise, had titles worthy of great

consideration; the Latins had chosen him for their leader, and the

Greeks already acknowledged him as their master. His bravery, proved

in a thousand fights, promised a firm and generous support to a throne

that must rise from amidst ruins. His prudence and moderation might

give the Latins and the people of Greece reason to hope that, when

once raised to empire, he would repair the evils of war. The claims of

Baldwin to the imperial crown were not less cogent than those of his

concurrents. The count of Flanders was related to the most powerful

monarchs of the West, and was descended, in the female line, from

Charlemagne. He was much beloved by his soldiers, whose dangers he was

always ready to share; he had deservedly obtained the esteem of the

Greeks, who, even amidst the disorders of conquest, celebrated him

as the champion of chastity and honour. Baldwin was the protector of

the weak, the friend of the poor; he loved justice, and had no dread

of truth. His youth, which he had already illustrated by brilliant

exploits and solid virtues, gave the subjects of the new empire hopes

of a long and happy reign; the rank he held among the warriors, his

piety, his intelligence, his love of study and learned men, rendered

him worthy of ascending the throne of Augustus and Constantine.

The electors at first turned their attention towards the venerable

Dandolo; but the republicans of Venice trembled at the idea of seeing

an emperor among their fellow-citizens: “What shall we not have to

dread,” said they, “from a Venetian, become master of Greece, and of

part of the East? Shall we be subject to his laws, or will he remain

subject to the laws of our country? Under his reign, and under that

of his successors, who will assure us that Venice, the Queen of the

Seas, will not become one of the cities of this empire?” The Venetians,

whilst speaking thus, bestowed just eulogiums upon the virtue and

character of Dandolo: they added, that their doge, who was approaching

the end of a life filled with great actions, had nothing left him but

to finish his days with glory, and that he himself would find it more

glorious to be the head of a victorious republic, than the sovereign of

a conquered nation. “What Roman,” cried they, “would have been willing

to lay down the title of citizen of Rome, to become king of Carthage?”

On terminating their speeches, the Venetians conjured the assembly to

elect an emperor from among the other leaders of the army. After this,

the choice of the electors could only be directed towards the count of

Flanders and the marquis of Montferrat; the most wise dreading that

the one of the two concurrents who should not obtain the empire, would

be sure to give vent to his dissatisfaction, and would desire the

fall of the throne occupied by his rival. They still remembered the

violent debates which, in the first crusade, had followed the election

of Godfrey of Bouillon; and the troubles excited in the young kingdom

of Jerusalem, by the jealous ambition of Raymond de St. Gilles. To

prevent the effects of such a fatal discord, it was judged best to

decree, at once, that the prince that should gain the suffrages for

the imperial throne, should yield to the other, under the condition

of fealty and homage, the property of the island of Candia, and all

the lands of the empire situated on the other side of the Bosphorus.

After this decision, the assembly turned their whole attention to the

election of an emperor. Their choice was for a long time uncertain. The

marquis of Montferrat at first appeared to have the majority of the

suffrages; but the Venetians were fearful of seeing upon the throne of

Constantinople a prince who had any possessions in the neighbourhood of

their territories, and represented to the assembly that the election of

Baldwin would be much more advantageous to the Crusaders, particularly

as it would interest the warlike nations of the Flemings and French in

the glory and support of the new empire. The interests and jealousies

of policy, and, without doubt, also wisdom and equity, at length united

all voices in favour of the count of Flanders.

The Crusaders, assembled before the palace of Bucoleon, awaited with

impatience the decision of the electors. At the hour of midnight, the

bishop of Soissons came forward under the vestibule, and pronounced,

in a loud voice, these words: “This hour of the night, which witnessed

the birth of a Saviour of the world, gives birth to a new empire,

under the protection of the Omnipotent. You have for emperor, Baldwin,

count of Flanders and Hainault.” Loud cries of joy arose from among

the Venetians and the French. The people of Constantinople, who had so

often changed masters, received, without repugnance, the new one just

given to them, and mingled their acclamations with those of the Latins.

Baldwin was elevated upon a buckler, and borne in triumph to the church

of St. Sophia. The marquis of Montferrat followed in the train of his

rival; the generous submission, of which he presented an example, was

much admired by his companions in arms, and his presence drew scarcely

less attention than the warlike pomp that surrounded the new emperor.

The ceremony of the coronation was postponed till the fourth Sunday

after Easter. In the mean time the marriage of the marquis of

Montferrat with Margaret of Hungary, the widow of Isaac, was celebrated

with much splendour. Constantinople beheld within its walls the

festivities and spectacles of the West, and, for the first time, the

Greeks heard in their churches the prayers and hymns of the Latins. On

the day appointed for the coronation of the emperor, Baldwin repaired

to St. Sophia, accompanied by the barons and the clergy. Whilst

divine service was being performed, the emperor ascended a throne of

gold, and received the purple from the hands of the pope’s legate,

who performed the functions of patriarch. Two knights carried before

him the _laticlavici tunica_ of the Roman consuls, and the imperial

sword, once again in the hands of warriors and heroes. The head of the

clergy, standing before the altar, pronounced, in the Greek language,

these words: “_He is worthy of reigning_;” and all persons present

repeated in chorus, “_he is worthy! he is worthy!_” The Crusaders

shouting their boisterous acclamations, the knights clad in armour,

the crowd of miserable Greeks, the sanctuary despoiled of its ancient

ornaments, and decked with foreign pomp, presented altogether a

spectacle solemn and melancholy—all the evils of war amidst the

trophies of victory. Surrounded by the ruins of an empire, reflective

spectators could not fail to remark among the ceremonies of this day,

that in which, according to the custom of the Greeks, were presented to

Baldwin a little vase filled with dust and bones, and a lock of lighted

flax,[146] as symbols of the shortness of life and the nothingness of

human grandeur.

Before the ceremony of his coronation, the new emperor distributed

the principal dignities of the empire among his companions in arms.

Villehardouin, marshal of Champagne, obtained the title of marshal of

Romania; the count de St. Pol, the dignity of constable; the charges of

master of the wardrobe, great cupbearer and butler, were given to Canon

de Bethune, Macaire de St. Ménéhoult, and Miles de Brabant. The doge of

Venice, created despot or prince of Romania, had the right of wearing

purple buskins, a privilege, among the Greeks, reserved for members of

the imperial family. Henry Dandolo represented the republic of Venice

at Constantinople; half the city was under his dominion and recognised

his laws; he raised himself, by the dignity of his character as well as

by his exploits, above all the princes and all the nobles of the court

of Baldwin; he alone was exempt from paying fealty and homage to the

emperor for the lands he was to possess.

The barons began to be impatient to share the cities and provinces

of the empire. In a council composed of twelve of the patricians of

Venice and twelve French knights, all the conquered lands were divided

between the two nations. Bithynia, Romania or Thrace, Thessalonica,

all Greece from Thermopylæ to Cape Sunium, with the larger isles of

the Archipelago, fell to the share and under the dominion of the

French. The Venetians obtained the Cyclades and the Sporades, in the

Archipelago; the isles and the oriental coast of the Adriatic Gulf; the

coasts of the Propontis and the Euxine Sea; the banks of the Hebrus

and the Vardas; the cities of Cypsedes, Didymatica, and Adrianople;

the maritime countries of Thessalonica, &c. &c. Such was at first the

distribution of the territories of the empire. But circumstances that

could not be foreseen, the diversity of interests, the rivalries of

ambition, all the chances of fortune and of war, soon produced great

changes in this division of dominions. History would in vain endeavour

to follow the conquerors into the provinces allotted to them; it would

be more easy to mark the banks of an overflowing torrent, or to trace

the path of the storm, than to fix the state of the uncertain and

transitory possessions of the conquerors of Byzantium.

The lands situated beyond the Bosphorus were erected into a kingdom,

and, with the island of Candia, given to the marquis of Montferrat.

Boniface exchanged them for the province of Thessalonica, and sold the

island of Candia to the republic of Venice for thirty pounds weight of

gold. The provinces of Asia were abandoned to the count of Blois, who

assumed the title of duke of Nice and Bithynia. In the distribution of

the cities and lands of the empire, every one of the lords and barons

had obtained domains proportionate with the rank and services of the

new possessor. When they heard speak of so many countries of which they

scarcely knew the names, the warriors of the West were astonished at

their conquests, and believed that the greater part of the universe

was promised to their ambition. In the intoxication of their joy, they

declared themselves masters of all the provinces that had formed the

empire of Constantine. They cast lots for the countries of the Medes

and Parthians, and the kingdoms that were under the domination of the

Turks and Saracens;[147] several barons expressed a great desire to

reign at Alexandria; others disputed for the palace of the sultans of

Iconium; some knights exchanged that which had been assigned to them

for new possessions, whilst others complained of their share, and

demanded an augmentation of territory. With the money which arose from

the plunder of the capital, the conquerors purchased the provinces of

the empire; they sold, they played at dice, for whole cities and their

inhabitants. Constantinople was during several days a market, in which

seas and their islands, nations and their wealth, were trafficked for;

in which the Roman world was put up to sale, and found purchasers among

the obscure crowd of the Crusaders.

Whilst the barons were thus distributing cities and kingdoms, the

ambition of the Latin clergy was by no means idle, but was busy

in invading the property of the Greek Church. All the churches of

Constantinople were divided between the French and the Venetians; they

named priests of the two nations, to minister in the temples torn from

the conquered; and no other religious ceremonies were celebrated within

the walls of the city but those of the West. The leaders of the crusade

had agreed among themselves, that if the emperor of Constantinople

should be chosen from the French, the patriarch should be a Venetian.

According to this convention, which had preceded the conquest, Thomas

Morosini[148] was elevated to the chair of St. Sophia; priests and

Latin bishops were, at the same time, sent into the other conquered

cities, and took possession of the wealth and the privileges of the

Greek clergy. Thus the Romish worship associated itself with the

victories of the Crusaders, and made its empire acknowledged wherever

the banners of the conquerors floated.

Nothing now opposed the arms of the Crusaders; all trembled before

them; fame wafted everywhere the accounts of their exploits and their

power; but, on casting a glance into the future the leaders had great

reason to fear that the retreat or death of their warriors would leave

the empire they had founded destitute of defenders. The population,

weakened and dispersed, were not sufficient for either the cultivation

of the lands or the work of the cities. In this conjuncture, the counts

and barons, who always expected with fear the judgments of the head of

the Church, redoubled their submission to the sovereign pontiff, and

sought his support, in the hope that the Holy See would bring the West

to pronounce in their favour, and that at the voice of the father of

the faithful, a great number of French, Italians, and Germans would

come to people and defend the new empire.

After his coronation, Baldwin wrote to the pope, to announce to him the

extraordinary victories by which it had pleased God to crown the zeal

of the soldiers of the cross. The new emperor, who assumed the title of

knight of the Holy See, recalled to the mind of the sovereign pontiff

the perfidies and the long revolt of the Greeks. “We have brought under

your laws,” said he, “that city, which, in hatred for the Holy See,

would scarcely hear the name of the prince of the apostles, and did not

afford a single church to him who received from the Lord the supremacy

over all churches.” Baldwin, in his letter, invited the vicar of Jesus

Christ to imitate the example of his predecessors, John, Agapetus, and

Leo, who visited in person the Church of Byzantium. To complete the

justification of the pilgrims who had made themselves masters of the

Greek empire, the emperor invoked the testimony of all the Christians

of the East. “When we entered into this capital,” added he, “many

inhabitants of the Holy Land, who were there, expressed greater joy

than any others, and asserted aloud that we had rendered God a more

agreeable service than if we had retaken Jerusalem.”

The marquis of Montferrat at the same time addressed a letter to

the sovereign pontiff, in which he protested his humble obedience

to all the decisions of the Holy See. “As for me,” said the king of

Thessalonica, “who only took up the cross for the expiation of my sins,

and not to obtain an opportunity of sinning with more license under

the pretext of religion, I submit myself blindly to your will. If you

judge that my presence in Romania may be useful, I will die there,

contending against your enemies and those of Christ: if you think, on

the contrary, I ought to abandon these rich countries, pay no regard to

the wealth or dignities I possess there, I am ready to return to the

West; for I am not willing to do anything that will draw upon me the

anger of the sovereign judge.”

The doge of Venice, who till that time had braved with so much

haughtiness the threats and thunders of the Church, acknowledged the

sovereign authority of the pope, and joined his protestations with

those of Baldwin and Boniface. To disarm the anger of Innocent, they

represented to him that the conquest of Constantinople had prepared

the deliverance of Jerusalem, and boasted of the wealth of a country

which the Crusaders had at length brought under the laws of the Holy

See. In all their letters to the pope or the faithful of the West, the

conquerors of Byzantium spoke of the Greek empire as of a new land of

promise, which awaited the servants of God and the soldiers of Christ.

Innocent had been for a long time irritated by the disobedience of the

Crusaders; in his reply, he reproached with bitterness the victorious

army of the Latins for having preferred the riches of the earth to

those of heaven;[149] he reprimanded the leaders for having exposed to

the outrages of the soldiers and followers of the army, the honour of

matrons and maidens, and virgins consecrated to the Lord; for having

ruined Constantinople, plundered _both great and small_, violated the

sanctuary, and put forth a sacrilegious hand upon the treasures of

the churches. Nevertheless, the father of the faithful would not take

upon him to fathom the judgments of God; he was satisfied to believe

that the Greeks had been justly punished for their faults, and that

the Crusaders were recompensed as the instruments of Providence, as

the avengers of divine justice. “Dread,” said he, “the anger of the

Lord; hope with fear that he will pardon the past, if you govern the

nations with equity; if you are faithful to the Holy See, and, above

everything, if you entertain a firm resolution to accomplish your vow

for the deliverance of the Holy Land.”

Notwithstanding this outward show of anger, the sovereign pontiff was

gratified to the depths of his heart by the prayers and submission

of the heroes and princes whose exploits made the Eastern world

tremble. Cardinal Peter of Capua had given absolution to the Venetians

excommunicated after the siege of Zara. Innocent at first blamed the

indulgence of his legate, but finished by confirming the pardon granted

to Dandolo and his compatriots. The pope approved the election of

Baldwin, who took the title of knight of the Holy See, and consented to

recognise an empire to which he was to give laws. The more submissive

the Crusaders showed themselves to his authority, the more plainly it

appeared to him that their conquests must concern the glory of God

and that of the vicar of Christ upon earth. He wrote to the bishops

of France, that God had been willing to console the Church by the

conversion of heretics; that Providence had humbled the Greeks, an

impious, proud, and rebellious people; and again placed the empire

in the hands of the Latins, a pious, humble, and submissive nation.

The sovereign pontiff invited, in the name of the emperor Baldwin,

the French of both sexes and all conditions, to repair to Greece to

receive lands and riches proportioned to their merit and their quality.

He promised the indulgences of the crusade to all the faithful, who,

sharing the glory of the Crusaders, should go to defend and promote the

prosperity of the new empire of the East.

The pope did not, however, lose sight of the Syrian expedition, and

appeared persuaded that succours sent to Constantinople must contribute

to the deliverance of the holy places. The king of Jerusalem implored

more earnestly than ever, both by letters and ambassadors, the

effective protection of the Holy See, as well as that of the princes of

the East.

The new emperor of Byzantium did not renounce the hope of assisting the

Christian colonies of Syria; and to raise the courage of his brethren

of the Holy Land, he sent to Ptolemaïs the chain of the port and

the gates of Constantinople. When these trophies reached Palestine,

scarcity, famine, and all the evils of an unfortunate war ravaged

both cities and plains. At the news of approaching aid, the people of

Ptolemaïs passed at once from excessive grief and despondency to all

the transports of joy. Fame, whilst publishing the miraculous conquests

of the companions of Baldwin and Boniface, carried the hope of safety

into all the Christian cities of Syria, and spread terror among the

Mussulmans. The sultan of Damascus had recently concluded a truce with

the Christians, and trembled lest it should be broken, when, all at

once, he owed his safety to the very event that had caused his alarms.

The greater part of the defenders of the Holy Land, who had experienced

nothing but the evils of war, became desirous of partaking of the glory

and the good fortune of the French and Venetians. They even who had

quitted the victorious army at Zara, who had so severely blamed the

expedition to Constantinople, believed that the will of God called them

to the shores of the Bosphorus, and they abandoned the Holy Land. The

legate of the pope, Peter of Capua, was drawn away by the example of

the other Crusaders, and went to animate with his presence the zeal

of the Latin clergy, who were labouring for the conversion of the

Greeks; the knights of St. John and the Temple also directed their

course towards Greece, where glory and rich domains were the reward of

valour; and the king of Jerusalem was left almost alone at Ptolemaïs,

without means of making the truce he had entered into with the infidels

respected.

Baldwin warmly welcomed the defenders of the Holy Land; but the joy

he experienced at their arrival was much troubled by the intelligence

of the death of his wife, Marguerite of Flanders. This princess had

embarked in the fleet of John de Nesle, in the belief that she should

meet her husband in Palestine; sinking under the fatigue of a long

voyage, and perhaps the pains of disappointment, she fell sick at

Ptolemaïs, and died at the moment she learnt that Baldwin had been

crowned emperor of Constantinople. The vessel destined to convey the

new empress to the shores of the Bosphorus only brought back her mortal

remains. Baldwin, amidst his knights, wept for the loss of a princess

he had loved tenderly, and who, by her virtues and the graces of her

youth, he had hoped would be the ornament and example of the court

of Byzantium. He caused her to be buried with great pomp in the same

church in which, but a few days before, he had received the imperial

crown. Thus the people of Constantinople witnessed, almost at the same

time, the coronation of an emperor and the funeral of an empress;—days

of joy and triumph mingled with days of mourning. This contrast of the

pageantry of death and the pomps of victory and of a throne, appeared

to offer a faithful image of the glory of conquerors, and the future

destiny of the empire.

The emperor and his barons, with all the succours they had received

from the East, had scarcely twenty thousand men to defend their

conquests and restrain the people of the capital and the provinces. The

sultan of Iconium and the king of the Bulgarians had long threatened

to invade the lands contiguous to their states, and they thought that

the dissensions and subsequent fall of the Greek empire presented a

favourable opportunity for the outbreak of their jealousy and ambition.

The nations of Greece were conquered without being subdued. As in

the disorder which accompanied the conquest of Byzantium, no other

right had been acknowledged but that of force and the sword, all the

Greeks, who had still arms in their hands, were desirous of forming a

principality or a kingdom. On all sides new states and empires sprang

up from the bosom of the ruins, and already threatened that which the

Crusaders had so recently established.

A grandson of Andronicus founded in a Greek province of Asia Minor the

principality of Trebizonde; Leo Sgurre, master of the little city of

Napoli, had extended his dominions by injustice and violence, and, to

employ a comparison offered by Nicetas, he had grown greater, like the

torrent that swells in the storm and is enlarged by the waters of the

tempest. A barbarous conqueror, a fierce and cruel tyrant, he reigned,

or rather he spread terror, over Argos and the isthmus of Corinth.

Michael-Angelus Comnenus, employing the arms of treachery, gained the

kingdom of Epirus, and subdued to his laws a wild and warlike people.

Theodore Lascaris, who, like Æneas, had fled from his burning country,

collected some troops in Bithynia, and caused himself to be proclaimed

emperor at Nice, whence his family was destined at a future day to

return in triumph to Constantinople.

If despair had imparted any degree of courage to the two fugitive

emperors, they might have obtained a share of their own spoils,

and preserved a remnant of power; but they had not profited by the

lessons of misfortune. Mourzoufle, who had completed all the crimes

begun by Alexius, did not hesitate to place himself in the power of

his unfortunate rival, whose daughter he had married: the wicked

sometimes take upon themselves the duty of punishing one another.

Alexius, after having loaded Mourzoufle with caresses, inveigled him

into his house, and caused his eyes to be put out. In this condition,

Mourzoufle, abandoned by his followers, for whom he was now nothing but

an object of disgust, went to conceal his existence and his misery in

Asia; but on his road fell into the hands of the Latins. Being led to

Constantinople, and condemned to expiate his crimes by an ignominious

death, he was precipitated from the top of a column raised by the

emperor Theodosius in the Place of Taurus. The multitude of Greeks

that had offered the purple to Mourzoufle were present at his tragical

end, and appeared terrified at a punishment that was much more new to

them than the crimes for which it was inflicted. After the execution,

the crowd contemplated with surprise a basso-relievo on the column

of Theodosius,[150] which represented a king falling from a very

elevated place, and a city stormed by sea. In these times of troubles

and calamities, presages were discovered everywhere. Everything, even

to marble and stone, appeared to have told of the misfortunes of

Constantinople. Nicetas was astonished that such great misfortunes had

not been announced by a shower of blood, or some sinister prodigies;

the most enlightened Greeks explained the fall of the empire of

Constantine by the verses of poets and sibyls, or by the prophecies

of the Scriptures; the common people read the death of tyrants and

their own miseries in the looks of statues, and upon the columns that

remained standing in the capital.

The perfidy and cruelty of Alexius did not remain long unpunished; the

usurper was obliged to wander from city to city, and, not unfrequently,

to conceal the imperial purple under the garb of a mendicant. For a

considerable time he only owed his safety to the contempt in which he

was held by the conquerors. After having long strayed about in a state

of destitution, he was given up to the marquis of Montferrat, who sent

him a prisoner into Italy; escaping thence, he again passed into Asia,

and found an asylum with the sultan of Iconium. Alexius could not be

satisfied to live in peace in his retreat, but joined the Turks in

an attack upon his son-in-law Lascaris, whom he could not pardon for

having saved a wreck of the empire, and reigning over Bithynia. As the

Turks were beaten, the fugitive prince fell at length into the hands of

the emperor of Nice, who compelled him to retire to a monastery, where

he died, forgotten by both Greeks and Latins.

Thus four emperors were immolated to ambition and vengeance:—a

deplorable spectacle, and most worthy of pity! Amidst the convulsions

and fall of an empire, we behold princes of the same family quarrelling

for a phantom of authority, snatch from each other by turns both the

sceptre and life, surpass the populace in fury, and leave them no

crime, no parricide, to commit.

If we could believe Nicetas, Alexius was a model of mildness and

moderation: he never made a woman put on mourning for her husband, he

never caused a citizen to weep for the loss of his fortune. This eulogy

of Nicetas throws a far greater light upon the nature of the government

than upon the qualities of the monarch. If it be true that we ought

to be thankful to despotism for every ill that it has not committed,

we must not forget that Alexius only obtained the throne by infamous

means; that he did not redeem his parricide by any public virtue; and

that the crime of his usurpation gave birth to a thousand other crimes,

brought about a horrible revolution, and caused the ruin of a nation.

Nicetas treats Mourzoufle with much more severity; but some modern

historians, dazzled by a few actions of bravery, have undertaken to

justify a prince who sacrificed everything to his ambition. They have

not hesitated to point out to us in a cruel, unscrupulous tyrant, a

model and a martyr of the patriotic virtues, as if love of country was

the same thing as a boundless love of power, and could possibly ally

itself with treachery and parricide.

Whilst the Greek princes were thus making war against each other,

and quarrelling for the wrecks of the empire, the French counts and

barons quitted the capital to go and take possession of the cities and

provinces that had fallen to their share. Many of them were obliged

to conquer, sword in hand, the lands that had been assigned to them.

The marquis of Montferrat set out on his march to visit the kingdom of

Thessalonica, and receive the homage of his new subjects. The emperor

Baldwin, followed by his brother Henry of Hainault, and a great number

of knights, made a progress through Thrace and Romania, and everywhere

on his passage, was saluted by the noisy acclamations of a people

always more skilful in nattering their conquerors than in combating

their enemies. When he arrived at Adrianople, where he was received

in triumph, the new emperor announced his intention of pursuing his

march as far as Thessalonica. This unexpected resolution surprised

the marquis of Montferrat, who entertained the desire of going alone

to his own kingdom. Boniface promised to be faithful to the emperor,

to be always ready to employ his forces against the enemies of the

empire; but he feared the presence of Baldwin’s army in his cities,

already exhausted by war. A serious quarrel broke out between the two

princes. The marquis of Montferrat accused the emperor of wishing to

get possession of his states; Baldwin fancied he could perceive in the

resistance of Boniface the secret design of denying the sovereignty

of the head of the empire. Both loved justice, and were not wanting

in moderation; but now one had become king of Thessalonica, and the

other emperor of Constantinople, they had courtiers, who endeavoured

to exasperate their quarrel and inflame their animosity. Some told

Boniface that Baldwin was entirely in the wrong, and that he abused

a power that ought to have been the reward of virtues very different

from his. Others reproached the emperor with being too generous

to his enemies, and, in the excess of their flattery, said he was

guilty of only one fault, and that was of having too long spared an

unfaithful vassal. In spite of all the representations of the marquis

of Montferrat, Baldwin led his army into the kingdom of Thessalonica.

Boniface considered this obstinacy of the emperor as a flagrant

outrage, and swore to take vengeance with his sword. Impelled by

passion, he departed suddenly with several knights who had declared in

his favour, and got possession of Didymatica, a city belonging to the

emperor.

The marquis of Montferrat took with him his wife, Mary of Hungary,

the widow of Isaac; and the presence of this princess, with the hopes

of keeping up the division among the Latins, drew many Greeks to the

banner of Boniface. He declared to them that he fought for their cause,

and clothed in the imperial purple a young prince, the son of Isaac

and Mary of Hungary. Dragging in his train this phantom of an emperor,

around whom the principal inhabitants from all parts of Romania

rallied, he resumed the road to Adrianople, and made preparations for

besieging that city. Boniface, daily becoming more irritated, would

listen to neither the counsels nor the prayers of his companions

in arms; and discord was about to cause the blood of the Latins to

flow, if the doge of Venice, the count of Blois, and the barons that

remained at Constantinople, had not earnestly employed their authority

and credit to prevent the misfortunes with which the new empire was

threatened. Deeply afflicted by what they learnt, they sent deputies to

the emperor and the marquis of Montferrat. The marshal of Champagne,

the envoy to Boniface, reproached him, in plain terms, with having

forgotten the glory and honour of the Crusaders, of whom he had been

the leader; with compromising, to gratify a vain pride, the cause of

Christ and the safety of the empire, and preparing days of triumph and

joy for the Greeks, the Bulgarians, and the Saracens. The marquis of

Montferrat was touched by the reproaches of Villehardouin, who was his

friend, and who spoke in the name of all the Crusaders. He promised to

put an end to the war, and to submit his quarrel with Baldwin to the

judgment of the counts and barons.

In the meanwhile Baldwin had taken possession of Thessalonica. As

soon as he heard of the hostilities of the marquis of Montferrat, he

hastily marched back to Adrianople. He was brooding over projects of

vengeance, and threatening to repel force by force, and oppose war to

war, when he met the deputies, who came in the name of the leaders

of the crusade, to speak to him of peace, and recall to his heart the

sentiments of justice and humanity. A knight of the train of the count

of Blois addressed a speech to the emperor, that Villehardouin has

preserved, in which our readers will be pleased, without doubt, to meet

with a picture of the noble frankness of the conquerors of Byzantium.

“Sire,” said he, “the doge of Venice, the Count Louis of Blois, my very

honoured lord, and all the barons who are at Constantinople, salute you

as their sovereign, and make complaint to God and you against those

who, by their evil counsels, have created fatal discords. You did,

certes, very wrong to lend an ear to these perfidious counsellors, for

they are our enemies and yours. You know that the Marquis Boniface

has submitted his quarrel to the judgment of the barons; the lords

and princes hope that you will do as he has done, and that you will

not hold out against justice. They have sworn, and we are charged to

declare so in their name, not to suffer any longer the scandal of a war

kindled between Crusaders.”

Baldwin did not at first answer this speech, and appeared surprised

at such language; but they spoke to him thus in the name of the doge

of Venice, whose old age he respected, and whom he loved tenderly; in

the name of the counts and barons, without whose help he could not

hope to preserve his empire, and, at length, he listened to the united

voices of reason and friendship. He promised to lay down his arms, and

repair to Constantinople, to adjust the quarrel between him and the

marquis of Montferrat. On his arrival, the counts and barons spared

neither complaints nor prayers, and they found him docile to all their

counsels. The marquis of Montferrat, who very shortly followed him,

entered the capital with a degree of mistrust; he was accompanied

by a hundred knights, with their men-at-arms; but the welcome he

received from Baldwin and the other leaders completely appeased all

his resentments, and dissipated all his misgivings. From that time the

re-establishment of harmony and peace became the sincere object of the

Crusaders. The doge of Venice, the counts and barons, with the most

respected of the knights, who reminded the masters of the new empire of

the redoubtable institution of the PEERS of the West, gave judgment in

the quarrel that was submitted to them, and pronounced, without appeal,

between the king of Thessalonica and the emperor of Constantinople.

The two princes swore never to listen again to perfidious counsels,

and embraced in presence of the army, who rejoiced at the return of

concord, as they would have done at a great victory obtained over

the enemies of the empire. “Great evil might they have done,” says

Villehardouin, “who excited this discord; for if God had not taken pity

on the Crusaders, they were in danger of losing their conquests, and

Christianity might have perished.”

As soon as peace was re-established, the knights and barons again

quitted the capital to pass through the provinces, and subdue such

as were refractory. The count of Blois, who had obtained Bithynia,

sent his knights across the Bosphorus; the troops of the Crusaders

gained several advantages over those of Lascaris. Penamenia, Lopada,

Nicomedia, and some other cities, opened their gates to the conquerors,

after a feeble resistance. The Latins brought under their dominion all

the coasts of the Propontis and the Bosphorus, as far as the ancient

Eolis. Henry of Hainault was not idle in this new war; whilst the

warriors of the count of Blois were pushing their conquests towards

Nice, he led his men-at-arms into Phrygia, unfurled his triumphant

banners in the plains where Troy once stood, fought at the same time

both Greeks and Turks, in the fields which had been trod by the armies

of Xerxes and Alexander, and took possession of all the country that

extends from the Hellespont to Mount Ida.

At the same time the marquis of Montferrat, now the peaceable master

of Thessalonica, undertook the conquest of Greece.[151] He advanced

into Thessaly, passed the chain of mountains of Olympus and Ossa, and

took possession of Larissa. Boniface and his knights, without fear and

without danger, passed through the narrow straits of Thermopylæ, and

penetrated into Bœotia and Attica. They put to flight Leo Sgurre,

who was the scourge of a vast province; and their exploits might have

reminded the Greeks of those heroes of the early ages who travelled

about the world fighting monsters and subduing tyrants. As all the

Greeks, for so long a time oppressed, sighed for a change, the heroes

of the crusades were everywhere received as liberators. Whilst Boniface

was becoming possessed of the beautiful countries of Greece, Geoffrey

de Villehardouin, nephew of the marshal of Champagne, established the

authority of the Latins in the Peloponnesus. After having driven the

troops of Michael Comnenus to the mountains of Epirus, he occupied,

without fighting, Coronea and Patras, and met with no resistance

except in the canton of Lacedæmonia. The conquered lands and cities

were given to the barons, who rendered fealty and homage to the king

of Thessalonica and the emperor of Constantinople.[152] Greece then

beheld lords of Argos and Corinth, grand sieurs of Thebes, dukes of

Athens, and princes of Achaia. French knights dictated laws in the

city of Agamemnon, in the city of Minerva,[153] in the country of

Lycurgus, and in that of Epaminondas. Strange destiny of the warriors

of this crusade, who had quitted the West to conquer the city and lands

of Jesus Christ, and whom fortune had conducted into places filled

with the remembrances of the gods of Homer and the glory of profane

antiquity!

The Crusaders were not allowed to felicitate themselves long upon

their conquests. Possessors of an empire much more difficult to be

preserved than invaded, they had not the ability to master fortune,

who soon took from them all that victory had bestowed. They exercised

their power with violence, and conciliated neither their subjects

nor their neighbours. Joannice, king of the Bulgarians, had sent an

ambassador to Baldwin, with offers of friendship; Baldwin replied

with much haughtiness, and threatened to compel Joannice to descend

from his usurped throne. When despoiling the Greeks of their property,

the Crusaders shut out from themselves every source of prosperity, and

reduced men to whom they left nothing but life, to despair. To fill up

the measure of their imprudence, they received into their armies the

Greeks, whom they loaded with contempt, and who became their implacable

enemies. Not content with reigning over cities, they were desirous

of subjugating hearts to their will, and awakened fanaticism. Unjust

persecutions exasperated the minds of the Greek priests, who declaimed

with vehemence against tyranny, and who, reduced to misery, were

listened to as oracles and revered as martyrs.

The new empire of the Latins, into which the feudal laws had been

introduced, was divided into a thousand principalities or lordships,

and was nothing but a species of republic, governed with great

difficulty. The Venetians had their particular jurisdiction, and the

greater part of the cities were regulated by turns by the legislation

of Venice and the code of feudalism. The lords and barons had among

themselves opposite interests and rivalries, which, every day, were

likely to bring on discord and civil war. The Latin ecclesiastics, who

had shared the spoils of the Greek Church, did not at all conciliate

peace by their example, but carried the scandals of their dissensions

even into the sanctuary. It was their constant wish and endeavour to

exalt the laws and authority of the court of Rome over those of the

emperors. Many of them had usurped the fiefs of the barons, and as the

fiefs they possessed were exempted from military service, the empire

thus became weakened in its natural defences.

The delicious climate and the riches of Greece, with the long sojourn

at Constantinople, enervated the courage of the conquerors, and

fostered corruption among the soldiers of the cross. The nations in

the end ceased to respect the power and the laws of those whose morals

and manners they despised. As the Latins had separated, some to go

into Greece, and others into Asia Minor, the Greeks, who no longer

beheld great armies, and who had sometimes resisted their enemies

with advantage, began to fancy that the warriors of the West were not

invincible.

In their despair, the conquered people resolved to have recourse to

arms; and, looking around them to find enemies for the Crusaders, they

implored the alliance and protection of the king of the Bulgarians.

There was formed a widely-extended conspiracy, into which all entered

to whom slavery was no longer tolerable. All at once the storm burst

forth by the massacre of the Latins; a war-cry arose from Mount Hemus

to the Hellespont; the Crusaders, dispersed in the various cities

and countries, were surprised by a furious and pitiless enemy. The

Venetians and French, who guarded Adrianople and Didymatica, were not

able to resist the multitude of the Greeks; some were slaughtered in

the streets; others retired in disorder, and, in their flight, beheld

with grief their banners torn down from the towers, and replaced by

the standards of the Bulgarians. The roads were covered with fugitive

warriors, who found no asylum in a country which lately trembled at the

fame of their arms.

Every city besieged by the Greeks was ignorant of the fate of the

other cities confided to the defence of the Latins; communications

were interrupted; sinister rumours prevailed in the provinces, which

represented the capital in flames, all the cities given up to pillage,

and all the armies of the Franks dispersed or annihilated. The old

chronicles, whilst speaking of the barbarity of the Greeks, also

describe the terror that took possession of some of the barons and

knights. The sense of danger appears to have stifled in their hearts

every other feeling. In the hour of peril, crusaders abandoned their

companions in arms, brothers abandoned brothers. An old knight, Robert

de Trils, who, in spite of his grey hairs, had insisted upon following

his son to the crusade, was besieged by the Greeks in Philippolis;

the city was surrounded by enemies, and Robert had but slender hopes

of safety. Even in such circumstances, his prayers and tears could

not prevail upon either his son or his son-in-law to remain with him.

Villehardouin informs us that these recreant warriors were slain in

their flight; for God would not save those who had refused to succour

their own father.

When the report of these disasters reached Constantinople, Baldwin

assembled the counts and barons; it was determined to apply the

promptest remedy to so many evils, and to put into action all the

energies of the empire to stop the progress of the revolt. The

Crusaders who were engaged in warlike expeditions on the other side

of the Bosphorus, received orders to abandon their conquests, and to

return immediately to the standards of the main army. Baldwin waited

for them several days, but as he was impatient to begin the war, and

wished to astonish the enemy by the promptitude of his proceedings, he

set out at the head of the knights that remained in the capital, and,

five days after his departure, appeared before the walls of Adrianople.

The leaders of the crusade, accustomed to brave all obstacles, were

never checked or restrained by the small number of their own soldiers,

or the multitude of their enemies. The capital of Thrace, surrounded

by impregnable ramparts, was defended by a hundred thousand Greeks, in

whom thirst of vengeance supplied the want of courage. Baldwin mustered

scarcely eight thousand men around his banners. The doge of Venice soon

arrived with eight thousand Venetians. The Latin fugitives came from

all parts to join this small army. The Crusaders pitched their tents,

and prepared to lay siege to the city. Their preparations proceeded but

slowly, and provisions were beginning to fail them, when the report

reached them of the march of the king of the Bulgarians. Joannice, the

leader of a barbarous people, himself more barbarous than his subjects,

was advancing with a formidable army. He concealed his ambitious

projects and his desire for vengeance under an appearance of religious

zeal, and caused a standard of St. Peter, which he had received from

the pope, to be borne before him. This new ally of the Greeks boasted

of being a leader of a holy enterprise, and threatened to exterminate

the Franks, whom he accused of having assumed the cross for the purpose

of ravaging the provinces and pillaging the cities of Christians.

The king of the Bulgarians was preceded in his march by a numerous

troop of Tartars and Comans, whom the hopes of pillage had drawn

from the mountains and forests near the banks of the Danube and the

Borysthenes. The Comans, more ferocious than the nations of Mount

Hemus, drank, it was said, the blood of their captives, and sacrificed

Christians on the altars of their idols. Like the warriors of Scythia,

accustomed to fight whilst flying, the Tartar horsemen received

orders from Joannice to provoke the enemy, even in their camp, and to

endeavour to draw the heavy cavalry of the Franks into an ambuscade.

The barons were aware of this danger, and forbade the Crusaders to

quit their tents, or go beyond their intrenchments. But such was

the character of the French warriors, that prudence, in their eyes,

deprived valour of all its lustre, and it appeared disgraceful to shun

the fight in the presence and amidst the scoffs of an enemy.

Scarcely had the Tartars appeared near the camp, when the sight of them

made even the leaders themselves forget the orders they had issued

only the night before. The emperor and the count of Blois flew to meet

the enemy, put them to flight, and pursued them with ardour for the

space of two leagues. But all at once the Tartars rallied, and in their

turn charged the Christians. The latter, who believed they had gained

a victory, were obliged to defend themselves in a country with which

they were unacquainted. Their squadrons, exhausted by fatigue, were

surprised and surrounded by the army of Joannice; pressed on all sides,

they made useless efforts to recover their line of battle, but had no

power either to fly, or resist the barbarians.

The count of Blois endeavoured to retrieve his fatal imprudence by

prodigies of valour; when seriously wounded he was thrown from his

horse amidst the enemy’s ranks, one of his knights raised him up, and

wished to draw him out of the _mêlée_: “No,” cried this brave prince,

“leave me to fight and die. God forbid I should ever be reproached with

having fled from battle.” As he finished these words, the count of

Blois fell, covered with wounds, and his faithful squire died by his

side.

The emperor Baldwin still disputed the victory; the bravest of his

knights and barons followed him into the _mêlée_, and a horrible

carnage marked their progress through the ranks of the barbarians.

Peter bishop of Bethlehem, Stephen count of Perche, Renaud de

Montmirail, Mathieu de Valencourt, Robert de Ronçai, and a crowd

of lords and valiant warriors lost their lives in defending their

sovereign. Baldwin remained almost alone on the field of battle,

and still continued fighting bravely; but at length, overpowered by

numbers, he fell into the hands of the Bulgarians, who loaded him with

chains. The wreck of the army retired in the greatest disorder, and

only owed their safety to the prudent bravery of the doge of Venice and

the marshal of Champagne, who had been left to guard the camp.

In the night that followed the battle, the Crusaders raised the siege

of Adrianople, and retook the route to the capital, amidst a thousand

dangers. The Bulgarians and the Comans, proud of their victory, pursued

without intermission the army they had conquered; this army, which

had lost half of its numbers, was in great want of provisions, and

had great difficulty in dragging along the wounded and the baggage.

The Crusaders were plunged in a melancholy silence, their despair was

evident in their actions and on their countenances. At Rodosto they

met Henry of Hainault, and several other knights, who were on their

way from the provinces of Asia, to join the army of Adrianople. The

retreating leaders related with tears their defeat and the captivity of

Baldwin. All these warriors, who knew not what it was to be conquered,

expressed at once their astonishment and their grief; they mingled

their lamentations and tears, and raised their hands and eyes towards

heaven, to implore the divine mercy. The Crusaders who returned from

the shores of the Bosphorus, addressed the marshal of Romania, and

weeping, said to him: “Order us where the greatest danger exists, for

we no longer wish to live: are we not sufficiently unfortunate in not

having come in time to succour our emperor?” Thus the knights of the

cross, though pursued by a victorious enemy, were still strangers to

fear; the grief caused by the remembrance of their defeat scarcely

allowed them to be sensible of the perils by which they were threatened.

All the Crusaders, however, did not exhibit this noble degree of

courage; many knights[154] whom Villehardouin is not willing to name,

that he may not dishonour their memory, abandoned the banners of the

army and fled to Constantinople; they related the disasters of the

Crusaders, and, to excuse their desertion, drew a lamentable picture of

the misfortunes that threatened the empire. All the Franks were seized

with grief and terror, on learning they had no longer an emperor. The

Greeks that inhabited the capital, applauded in secret the triumph of

the Bulgarians, and their ill-concealed joy still further increased

the alarms of the Latins. A great number of knights, overcome by so

many reverses, saw no safety but in flight, and embarked hastily on

board some Venetian vessels. In vain the legate of the pope and several

leaders of the army endeavoured to detain them, threatening them with

the anger of God and the contempt of men: they renounced their own

glory; they abandoned an empire founded by their arms, and went to

announce the captivity of Baldwin in the cities of the West, where the

rejoicings for the first victories of the Crusaders were still being

celebrated.

In the mean time, Joannice continued his pursuit of the conquered

army. The Greeks, united with the Bulgarians, took possession of all

the provinces, and left the Latins no repose. Among the disasters of

which contemporary history has left us a deplorable account, we must

not forget the massacre of twenty thousand Armenians. This numerous

colony had left the banks of the Euphrates, and established themselves

in the province of Natolia. After the conquest of Constantinople,

they declared for the Latins, and when the latter experienced their

reverses, finding themselves menaced and pursued by the Greeks, they

crossed the Bosphorus, and followed Henry of Hainault, who was marching

towards Adrianople. The Armenians took with them their flocks and their

families: they drew, in carriages, all that they possessed that was

most valuable, and had great difficulty, on their march across the

mountains of Thrace, in keeping up with the army of the Crusaders.

These unfortunate people were surprised by the Tartars, and, to a man,

perished beneath the swords of a pitiless conqueror. The Franks wept

at the defeat and destruction of the Armenians, without being able to

avenge them: they had nothing but enemies throughout the vast provinces

of the empire. Beyond the Bosphorus, they only preserved the castle

of Peges: on the European side, only Rodosto and Selembria. Their

conquests in ancient Greece were not yet threatened by the Bulgarians;

but these distant possessions only served to divide their forces.

Henry of Hainault, who took the title of regent, performed prodigies

of valour in endeavouring to retake some of the cities of Thrace; and

lost, in various combats, a great number of the warriors that remained

under his banners.

The bishop of Soissons and some other Crusaders, invested with the

confidence of their unfortunate companions in arms, were sent into

Italy, France, and the county of Flanders, to solicit the assistance of

the knights and barons but the succour they hoped for could only arrive

slowly, and the enemy continued to make rapid progress. The army of the

Bulgarians, like a violent tempest, advanced on all sides; it desolated

the shores of the Hellespont, extended its ravages into the kingdom of

Thessalonica, repassed Mount Hemus, and returned, more numerous and

more formidable than ever, to the banks of the Hebrus. The Latin empire

had no other defenders but a few warriors divided among the various

cities and fortresses, and every day war and desertion diminished the

numbers and strength of the unfortunate conquerors of Byzantium. Five

hundred knights, picked warriors of the army of the Crusaders, were

attacked before the walls of Rusium, and cut to pieces by a countless

multitude of Bulgarians and Comans. This defeat was not less fatal than

the battle of Adrianople; the hordes of Mount Hemus and the Borysthenes

carried terror everywhere. On their passage, the country was in flames,

and the cities afforded neither refuge nor means of defence. The land

was covered with soldiers, who slaughtered all who came in their way;

the sea was covered with pirates, who threatened every coast with their

brigandage. Constantinople expected every day to see the standards of

the victorious Joannice beneath its walls, and only owed its safety to

the excess of evils that desolated all the provinces of the empire.

The king of the Bulgarians did not spare his allies any more than

his enemies; he burnt and demolished all the cities that fell into

his hands. He ruined the inhabitants, dragged them in his train like

captives, and made them undergo, in addition to the calamities of

war, all the outrages of a jealous and barbarous tyranny. The Greeks,

who had solicited his assistance, were at last reduced to implore

the aid of the Latins against the implacable fury of their allies.

The Crusaders accepted with joy the alliance with the Greeks, whom

they never ought to have repulsed, and re-entered into Adrianople.

Didymatica, and most of the cities of Romania, shook off the

intolerable yoke of the Bulgarians, and submitted to the Latins. The

Greeks, whom Joannice had urged on to despair, showed some bravery,

and became useful auxiliaries to the Latins; and the new empire

might have hoped for a return of days of prosperity and glory, if so

many calamities could possibly have been repaired by a few transient

successes. But all the provinces were strewed with ruins, and the

cities and countries were without inhabitants. The hordes of Mount

Hemus, whether victorious or conquered, still continued their predatory

habits. They easily recovered from their losses; the losses of the

Franks became every day more irreparable. The leader of the Bulgarians

sought out everywhere the foes of the new empire; and, being abandoned

by the Greeks of Romania, he formed an alliance with Lascaris, the

implacable enemy of the Latins.

The pope in vain exhorted the nations of France and Italy to take up

arms for the assistance of the conquerors of Byzantium; he could not

awaken their enthusiasm for a cause that presented to its defenders

nothing but certain evils, and dangers without glory.

Amidst the perils that continued to multiply, the Crusaders remained

perfectly ignorant of the fate of Baldwin; sometimes it was said that

he had broken his bonds, and had been seen wandering in the forests

of Servia;[155] sometimes that he had died of grief in prison;

sometimes that he had been massacred in the midst of a banquet by

the king of the Bulgarians; that his mutilated members had been cast

out upon the rocks, and that his skull, enchased in gold, served as

a cup for his barbarous conqueror. Several messengers, sent by Henry

of Hainault, travelled through the cities of Bulgaria to learn the

fate of Baldwin; but returned to Constantinople, without having been

able to ascertain anything. A year after the battle of Adrianople,

the pope, at the solicitation of the Crusaders, conjured Joannice to

restore to the Latins of Byzantium the head of their new empire. The

king of the Bulgarians contented himself with replying, that Baldwin

had paid the tribute of nature, and that his deliverance was no longer

in the power of mortals. This answer destroyed all hopes of again

seeing the imprisoned monarch, and the Latins no longer entertained

a doubt of the death of their emperor. Henry of Hainault received

the deplorable heritage of his brother with tears and deep regret,

and succeeded to the empire amidst general mourning and sorrow. To

complete their misfortunes, the Latins had to weep for the loss of

Dandolo, who finished his glorious career at Constantinople, and whose

last looks must have perceived the rapid decline of an empire he had

founded.[156] The greater part of the Crusaders had either perished

in battle, or returned to the West. Boniface, in an expedition against

the Bulgarians of Rhodope, received a mortal wound, and his head was

carried in triumph to the fierce Joannice, who had already immolated

a monarch to his ambition and vengeance. The succession of Boniface

gave birth to serious disputes among the Crusaders; and the kingdom

of Thessalonica, which had exhibited some splendour during its short

existence, disappeared amidst the confusion and the storms of a civil

and a foreign war. In the brother and successor of Baldwin were united

the civil and military virtues; but he could scarcely hope to restore a

power so shaken on all sides.

I have not the courage to pursue this history, and describe the

Latins in the extremes of their abasement and misery. On commencing

my narration, I said: “_Evil to the conquered_;” on terminating it, I

cannot refrain from saying: “_Evil to the conquerors_.”

An old empire which moulders away, a new empire ready to sink into

ruins, such are the pictures that this crusade presents to us; never

did any epoch offer greater exploits for admiration, or greater

troubles for commiseration. Amidst these glorious and tragical scenes,

the imagination is excited in the most lively manner, and passes,

without ceasing, from surprise to surprise. We are at first astonished

at seeing an army of thirty thousand men embark to conquer a country

which might reckon upon many millions of defenders; a tempest, an

epidemic disease, want of provisions, disunion among the leaders, an

indecisive battle, all, or any of these, might have ruined the army of

the Crusaders, and brought about the failure of their enterprise. By

an unheard-of good fortune, nothing that they had to dread happened to

them. They triumphed over all dangers, and surmounted all obstacles:

without having any party among the Greeks, they obtained possession

of their capital and the provinces; and, at the moment when they saw

their standards triumphant all around them, it was that their fortune

deserted them and their ruin began. A great lesson is this, given to

nations by Providence, which sometimes employs conquerors to chastise

both people and princes, and then, at its pleasure, destroys the

instrument of its justice! There is no doubt that that Providence,

which protects empires, will not permit great states to be subverted

with impunity; and to deter those who wish to conquer everything by

force of arms, it has decreed that victory shall sometimes bear none

but very bitter fruits.

The Greeks, a degenerate nation, honoured their misfortunes by no

virtue; they had neither sufficient courage to prevent the reverses

of war, nor sufficient resignation to support them. When reduced to

despair, they showed some little valour; but that valour was imprudent

and blind; it precipitated them into new calamities, and procured them

masters much more barbarous than those whose yoke they were so eager

to shake off. They had no leader able to govern or guide them; no

sentiment of patriotism strong enough to rally them: deplorable example

of a nation left to itself, which has lost its morals, and has no

confidence in its laws or its government!

The Franks had just the same advantages over their enemies that the

barbarians of the north had over the Romans of the Lower Empire. In

this terrible conflict, simplicity of manners, the energy of a new

people for civilization, the ardour for pillage, and the pride of

victory, were sure to prevail over the love of luxury, habits formed

amidst corruption, and vanity which attaches importance to the most

frivolous things, and only preserves a gaudy resemblance of true

grandeur.

The events we have recorded are, doubtless, sufficient to make us

acquainted with the manners and intellectual faculties of the Greeks

and Latins. Two historians, however, who have served us as guides, may

add by their style even, and the character of their works, to the idea

that we form of the genius of the two races.

The Greek Nicetas makes long lamentations over the misfortunes of the

vanquished; he deplores with bitterness the loss of the monuments, the

statues, the riches which ministered to the luxury of his compatriots.

His accounts, full of exaggeration and hyperboles, sprinkled all over

with passages from the Scriptures and profane authors, depart almost

always from the noble simplicity of history, and only exhibit a vain

affectation of learning. Nicetas, in the excess of his vanity,[157]

hesitates to pronounce the names even of the Franks, and fancies he

inflicts a punishment upon them by preserving silence as to their

exploits; when he describes the misfortunes of the empire, he can only

weep and lament; but whilst lamenting, he is still anxious to please,

and appears much more interested about his book than his country.

The marquis of Champagne does not pique himself upon his erudition,

but even seems proud of his ignorance. It has been said that he could

not write, and he himself confesses that he dictated his history. His

narration, void of all spirit of research, but lively and animated,

constantly recalls the language and the noble frankness of a _preux

chevalier_. Villehardouin particularly excels in the speeches of his

heroes, and delights in praising the bravery of his companions: if

he never names the Grecian warriors, it is because he did not know

them, and did not wish to know them. The marshal of Champagne is not

affected by the evils of war, and only elevates his style to paint

traits of heroism; the enthusiasm of victory alone can draw tears from

him. When the Latins experienced great reverses, he cannot weep, he is

silent; and it may be plainly seen he has laid down his book to go and

fight.[158]

There is another contemporary historian, whose character may likewise

assist us in forming a judgment upon the age in which he lived and

the events he has related. Gunther, a monk of the order of Citeaux,

who wrote under the dictation of Martin Litz, expatiates upon the

preachings of the crusade, and on the virtues of his abbot, who placed

himself at the head of the Crusaders of the diocese of Bâle. When the

Christian army directs its course towards the capital of the Greek

empire, Gunther remembers the orders of the pope, and becomes silent;

if he affords us a few words upon the second siege of Constantinople,

he cannot conceal the terror which this rash enterprise creates in

him. In his recital, the valour of the Crusaders scarcely obtains a

modest eulogy; the imagination of the historian is only struck by

the difficulties and perils of the expedition; filled with the most

sinister presentiments, he constantly repeats that there is no hope

of success for the Latins. When they are triumphant, his fear is

changed all at once into admiration. The monk Gunther celebrates with

enthusiasm the unhoped-for success of the conquerors of Byzantium,

among whom he never loses sight of his abbot, Martin Litz, loaded with

the pious spoils of Greece.

When reading the three histories contemporary with the expedition to

Constantinople, we plainly perceive that the first belongs to a Greek

brought up at the court of Byzantium, the second to a French knight,

and the third to a monk. If the two first historians, by their manner

of writing and the sentiments they express, give us a just idea of the

Greek nation and the heroes of the West, the last may also explain

to us the opinions and the character of the greater part of those

Crusaders, who were constantly threatening to quit the army after

it had left Venice, and who, perhaps, were only so mindful of the

oath they had made to go to the Holy Land, because the name alone of

Constantinople filled them with terror. There were, as may be plainly

seen, but very few of these timid Crusaders in the Christian army,

and even these were governed by the general spirit that animated the

knights and barons. Other crusades had been preached in councils, this

crusade was proclaimed at tournaments; thus the greater parts of the

Crusaders proved more faithful to the virtues and laws of chivalry than

to the will of the Holy See. These warriors, so proud and so brave,

were full of respect for the authority and judgment of the pope; but,

governed by honour, placed between their first vows and their word

given to the Venetians, they often swore to deliver Jerusalem, and were

led, without thinking of it, to the walls of Constantinople. Armed to

avenge the cause of Christ, they became subservient to the ambition of

Venice, to which republic they esteemed themselves bound by gratitude,

and overturned the throne of Constantinople to pay a debt of fifty

thousand silver marks.

The chivalric spirit, one of the peculiar characteristics of this

war, and of the age in which it was undertaken, kept up in the hearts

of the Crusaders ambition and the love of glory. In the early days

of chivalry, knights declared themselves the champions of beauty and

innocence; at first they were appealed to for justice against injuries

and robberies; but soon princes and princesses, deprived of their

rights by force, came to demand of them the restitution of provinces

and kingdoms. The champions of misfortune and beauty then became

illustrious liberators and true conquerors.

At the same time that a young prince came to implore the Crusaders to

assist him in replacing his father upon the throne of Constantinople,

a young princess, the daughter of Isaac, king of Cyprus, despoiled by

Richard Cœur de Lion, repaired to Marseilles, to solicit the support

of the Crusaders, who were embarking for Palestine. She married a

Flemish knight, and charged him with the task of recovering her

father’s kingdom. This Flemish knight, whose name history does not

mention, but who belonged to the family of Count Baldwin, when he

arrived in the East, addressed himself to the king of Jerusalem, and

demanded the kingdom of Cyprus of him; he was supported in his demand

by the châtelain of Bruges, and the greater part of his companions who

had taken the cross. Amaury, who had received from the pope and the

emperor of Germany, the title of king of Cyprus, far from yielding to

such pretensions, ordered the Flemish knight, John of Nesle, and their

companions, to quit his dominions. The knights who had embraced the

cause of the daughter of Isaac, abandoned the idea of retaking the

kingdom of Cyprus, and without stopping in the Holy Land, turned their

steps towards the banks of the Euphrates and the Orontes, to seek for

other countries to conquer.

Before there was a question of attacking Constantinople, we have seen a

daughter of Tancred, the last king of Sicily, espouse a French knight,

and transfer to him the charge of avenging her family and establishing

her claims to the kingdom founded by the Norman knights. Gauthier

de Brienne, after his marriage, set out for Italy, furnished with a

thousand _livres tournois_, and accompanied by sixty knights. Having

received at Rome the benediction of the pope, he declared war against

the Germans, then masters of Apulia and Sicily; got possession of the

principal fortresses,[159] and appeared likely to enjoy the fruits of

his victories in peace, when he was surprised in his tent, and fell,

covered with wounds, into the hands of his enemies. He was offered

his liberty upon the condition of renouncing his claim to the crown

of Sicily; but he preferred the title of king to freedom, and allowed

himself to die with hunger rather than abandon his rights to a kingdom

which victory had bestowed upon him.

This spirit of conquest, which appeared so general among the knights,

might favour the expedition to Constantinople; but it was injurious to

the holy war, by turning the Crusaders aside from the essential object

of the crusade. The heroes of this war did nothing for the deliverance

of Jerusalem, of which they constantly spoke in their letters to the

pope. The conquest of Byzantium, very far from being, as the knights

believed, the road to the land of Christ, was but a new obstacle to the

taking of the holy city; their imprudent exploits placed the Christian

colonies in greater peril, and only ended in completely subverting,

without replacing it, a power which might have served as a barrier

against the Saracens.

The Venetians skilfully took advantage of this disposition of the

French knights; Venice succeeded in stifling the voice of the sovereign

pontiff, who often gave the Crusaders counsels dictated by the spirit

of the gospel. The republic had the greatest influence over the events

of this war, and over the minds of the barons and knights, who allowed

themselves to be governed by turns by the sentiments of honour and by

a desire to win rich dominions, and thus exhibited throughout their

conduct an inconsistent mixture of generosity and avarice.

The inclination to enrich themselves by victory had, particularly, no

longer any bounds when the Crusaders had once beheld Constantinople;

ambition took the place in their hearts of every generous sentiment,

and left nothing of that enthusiasm which had been the moving principle

of other crusades. No prodigy, no miraculous apparition came to second

or stimulate the valour of knights to whom it was quite sufficient to

point out the wealth of Greece. In preceding crusades, the bishops

and ecclesiastics promised the combatants indulgences of the Church

and eternal life; but in this war, as the Crusaders had incurred the

displeasure of the head of the faithful, they could not be supported

in their perils by the hope of martyrdom; and the leaders who were

acquainted with the spirit that animated their followers, contented

themselves with offering a sum of money to the soldier that should

first mount the ramparts of Constantinople. When they had pillaged the

city, knights, barons, and soldiers exclaimed, in the intoxication of

their joy,—_Never was so rich a booty seen since the creation of the

world!_

We have remarked that, in the conquest of the provinces, every knight

wished to obtain a principality; every count, every lord, wished for

a kingdom; the clergy themselves were not exempt from this ambition,

and often complained to the pope of not having been favoured in the

division of the spoils of the Greek empire.

To recapitulate, in a few words, our opinion of the events and

consequences of this crusade, we must say that the spirit of chivalry

and the spirit of conquest at first gave birth to wonders; but that

they did not suffice to maintain the Crusaders in their possessions.

This conquering spirit, carried to the most blind excess, did not allow

them to reflect that among the greatest triumphs, there is a point

at which victory and force themselves are powerless, if prudence and

wisdom do not come to the assistance of valour.

The Franks, their ancestors, who set out from the North to invade the

richest provinces of the Roman empire, were better seconded by fortune,

but more particularly by their own genius. Respecting the usages of

the countries that submitted to their arms, they only beheld in the

conquered, fellow-citizens and supporters of their own power; they

did not create a foreign nation in the midst of the nations they had

desolated by their victories. The Crusaders, on the contrary, evinced

a profound contempt for the Greeks, whose alliance and support they

ought to have been anxious to seek; they wished to reform manners

and alter opinions,—a much more difficult task than the conquest of

an empire,—and only met with enemies in a country that might have

furnished them with useful allies.

We may add that the policy of the Holy See, which at first undertook

to divert the Latin warriors from the expedition to Constantinople,

became, in the end, one of the greatest obstacles to the preservation

of their conquests. The counts and barons, who reproached themselves

with having failed in obedience to the sovereign pontiff, at length

followed scrupulously his instructions to procure by their arms the

submission of the Greek Church, the only condition on which the holy

father would pardon a war commenced in opposition to his commands.

To obtain his forgiveness and approbation, they employed violence

against schism and heresy, and lost their conquest by endeavouring to

justify it in the eyes of the sovereign pontiff. The pope himself did

not obtain that which he so ardently desired. The union of the Greek

and Roman churches could not possibly be effected amidst the terrors

of victory and the evils of war; the arms of the conquerors had less

power than the anathemas of the Church, to bring back the Greeks to the

worship of the Latins. Violence only served to irritate men’s minds,

and consummated the rupture, instead of putting an end to it. The

remembrance of persecutions and outrages, a reciprocal contempt, an

implacable hatred arose and became implanted between the two creeds,

and separated them for ever.

History cannot affirm that this crusade made great progress in the

civilization of Europe. The Greeks had preserved the jurisprudence of

Justinian; the empire possessed wise regulations upon the levying of

imposts and the administration of the public revenues; but the Latins

disdained these monuments of human wisdom and of the experience

of many ages; they coveted nothing the Greeks possessed but their

territories and their wealth. Most of the knights took a pride in their

ignorance, and amongst the spoils of Constantinople, attached no value

to the ingenious productions of Greece. Amidst the conflagrations that

consumed the mansions and palaces of the capital, they beheld with

indifference large and valuable libraries given up to the flames. It

must be confessed, however, that, in these great disasters the Muses

had not to weep for the loss of any of the masterpieces they had

inspired. If the conquerors knew not how to appreciate the treasures

of genius, this rich deposit was not to be lost for their descendants.

All the books of antiquity that were known in the time of Eustathius

[A. D. 750, TRANS.], and of which that learned philosopher made the

nomenclature some centuries before the fifth crusade, enriched France

and Italy at the revival of letters.

We may add that the necessity for both conquerors and conquered of

intercommunication must have contributed to the spreading of the

Latin language among the Greeks, and that of the Greeks among the

Latins.[160] The people of Greece were obliged to learn the idiom of

the clergy of Rome in order to make their petitions and complaints

known; the ecclesiastics charged by the pope to convert the Greeks

could not dispense with the study of the language of Plato and

Demosthenes, to teach the disciples of Photius the truths of the Roman

Catholic religion.

We have spoken of the destruction of the masterpieces of sculpture;

we must admit, nevertheless, that some of them escaped the barbarism

of the conquerors. The Venetians, more enlightened than the other

Crusaders, and born in a city constructed and embellished by the arts,

caused several of the monuments of Byzantium to be transported into

Italy. Four horses of bronze,[161] which, amidst the revolutions of

empires, had passed from Greece to Rome, from Rome to Constantinople,

were sent to decorate the place of St. Mark: many ages after this

crusade, they were doomed to be carried away from Venice, in its turn

invaded by victorious armies, and again to return to the shores of

the Adriatic, as eternal trophies of war, and faithful companions of

victory.

The Crusaders likewise profited by several useful inventions, and

transmitted them to their compatriots; and the fields and gardens of

Italy and France were enriched by some plants till that time unknown

in the West. Boniface sent into his marquisate some seeds of maize,

which had never before been cultivated in Italy: a public document,

which still exists, attests the gratitude of the people of Montferrat.

The magistrates received the innocent fruits of victory with great

solemnity, and, upon their altars, called down a blessing upon a

production of Greece, that would one day constitute the wealth of the

plains of Italy.[162]

Flanders, Champagne, and most of the provinces of France, which had

sent their bravest warriors to the crusade, fruitlessly lavished their

population and their treasures upon the conquest of Byzantium. We may

say that our intrepid ancestors gained nothing by this wonderful war,

but the glory of having given, for a moment, masters to Constantinople,

and lords to Greece. And yet these distant conquests, and this new

empire, which drew from France its turbulent and ambitious princes,

must have been favourable to the French monarchy. Philip Augustus must

have been pleased by the absence of the great vassals of the crown, and

had reason to learn with joy that the count of Flanders, a troublesome

neighbour, and a not very submissive vassal, had obtained an empire in

the East. The French monarchy thus derived some advantage from this

crusade; but the republic of Venice profited much more by it.

This republic, which scarcely possessed a population of two hundred

thousand souls, and had not the power to make its authority respected

on the continent, in the first place, made use of the arms of the

Crusaders, to subdue cities, of which, without their assistance,

she could never have made herself mistress. By the conquest of

Constantinople, she enlarged her credit and her commerce in the East,

and brought under her laws some of the richest possessions of the

Greek emperors. She increased the reputation of her navy, and raised

herself above all the maritime nations of Europe. The Venetians, though

fighting under the banners of the cross, never neglected the interests

or glory of their own country, whilst the French knights scarcely ever

fought for any object but personal glory and their own ambition.

The republic of Venice, accustomed to calculate the advantages and

expenses of war, immediately renounced all conquests the preservation

of which might become burdensome and of her new possessions in the

East, only retained such as she judged necessary to the prosperity of

her commerce, or the maintenance of her marine. Three years after the

taking of Constantinople, the senate of Venice published an edict, by

which it permitted any of the citizens to conquer the islands of the

Archipelago; yielding to them the proprietorship of all the countries

they might subdue. After this there soon appeared princes of Naxos,

dukes of Paros, and lords of Mycone, as there had been dukes of Athens,

lords of Thebes, and princes of Achaia; but these dukes and princes

were only vassals of the republic. Thus Venice, more fortunate than

France, made the valour and ambition of her citizens subservient to her

interests.