The traders of the thirteenth century were by no means all Christians.

Jews and even Mohammedans were allowed to settle in the imperial city,

and Geoffrey of Vinsauf bitterly says "it would have been right even

to have rased the city to the ground, for, if we believe report, it

was polluted by new mosques, which its perfidious Emperor allowed to

be built that he might strengthen the league with the Turks." It

seemed strange to the Western that such toleration should be allowed.

The Jews and the Albigenses were the only "dissenters" he had met; but

in the East there were not only the Romanists, but the Monophysite

Armenians and the Nestorian Chaldeans; Jews and Mohammedans made no

such very great addition to the parliament of religions. And they all,

infidels and heretics alike, brought their riches to the great mart.

As the Turks advanced over Asia, scattering ruin and blight before

their path, the riches of the devastated cities fled to shelter behind

the Byzantine walls. No city it seemed to a Jewish observer of the

time was so rich or so full of business save Baghdad. Gold was nothing

accounted of; it covered the walls and pillars of the palace, it made

the throne of the Emperor, the lamps of S. Sophia, the vessels of many

an almost forgotten church. "The whole Empire had been put under

contribution for the adornment of the capital. The temples and public

buildings of Greece, of Asia Minor, and of the islands of the

Archipelago, had been ransacked to embellish what its inhabitants

spoke of as the Queen City, and even Egypt had contributed an obelisk

and many other monuments." All who saw the city were amazed at its

riches, at the magnificence of its buildings, of its churches,

palaces, houses of nobles and merchants. Marble and stone houses

filled the chief streets; the splendid marble from the quarries of the

Proconnesus, the stone which still stands firm in the massive

dwellings of the Phanar. There were of course then as now many houses

of wood, and fires were constant, but those who noted the fine houses

destroyed as more than in the three largest cities of France, noted

also that of those that remained as of the treasures of the churches

there was "neither end nor measure." And with all this there was a

profound sense of security, so often and so unwarrantably

contemporaneous with a marked development of luxurious life.

Constantinople had never been captured, men easily believed that it

never would be. Its walls, so magnificent in their decay, had proved

and were thought still to be impregnable. The subtle influence of

Oriental habits had eaten, it seemed, into the life that had been so

strong and fierce under Justinian or Heraclius. Men, as they had

ceased to contend earnestly for faith or morals, had sunk down into a

luxurious pleasure-loving life, almost like that of old Rome or modern

London. Some of the worst features of Asiatic life had already been

introduced; the _entourage_ of the Sultan that is now so conspicuous

at the Selamlik had its counterpart in the court of the Comneni. The

Emperor's favourites were coming to be the administrators of the

Empire: so bitterly complains the chronicler Nicetas--"these creatures

who guard the mountains and the forests for the Emperors' hunting with

as great care as the old pagans guarded the groves sacred to the gods,

or with a fidelity like that with which the destroying angel guards

the gates of Paradise, threatened to kill any one who attempted to cut

timber for the fleet": it was at the crisis of the Empire. And while

the Empire was ruled by eunuchs and the court by mistresses the

Emperors of the twelfth century lived in luxury, effeminacy, and

indolence. It had come to be thought--what a contrast from the days of

the sleepless Justinian!--that work was impossible for a Cæsar of the

East. And the example spread, as such examples always do, downwards.

It was easy for there to be a general who could not lead, soldiers who

could not fight, sailors who could not navigate beyond the Bosphorus.

And there was no hope of regeneration from a strong Church preaching

righteousness. The Emperors in the time of their power had reduced

the patriarchs to impotence: and now there was no one in the Church to

resist, as there was no one in the State to lead. Yet still the

immemorial protest of the Church was not altogether silenced.

Historians show that there were many priests and monks who preached

and lived according to a high standard of morality and religion.

Learning still survived, and piety, without ostentation but never

wholly without influence.

It is not necessary to detail the causes which led to the diversion of

the fourth Crusade upon Constantinople. Venice, it is enough to say,

betrayed the Christian cause by a secret treaty with the infidel, and

then formed a plot for the capture of the city. Alexius III. had

deposed Isaac Angelus in 1195; his son Alexius was allowed to escape

and secretly took ship for Italy and eventually threw himself upon the

charity of his brother-in-law, Philip of Swabia, the claimant of the

imperial crown of the West. He was assisted; and by a series of

complicated intrigues the Crusaders were induced to undertake the

capture of Constantinople and the restoration of the Empire to the

supposed rightful heir, as a step towards the accomplishment of the

duty to which they were pledged, the recovery of the Holy Land. The

Pope's wishes were set aside, the honest leaders were hoodwinked, and

Dandolo won the day.

On the 23rd of June 1204 the crusading fleet anchored at San Stefano.

Thence they saw the magnificent city that lay before them. "Be sure,"

says Villehardouin, "there was not a man who did not tremble, because

never was so great an enterprise undertaken by so small a number of

men." Next day they sailed up to the Bosphorus, past the walls,

crowded with spectators, to the anchorage of Chalcedon. The Emperor

sent to know their intentions: they ordered him to surrender the crown

to the young Alexius. Then came another of those picturesque scenes

of which the mediæval history of the New Rome is so full. It was

determined to show the young prince to the people whom he came to

recover to their allegiance. The splendid Venetian galleys sailed up

to the walls of the Sea of Marmora, and stopped where the crowds that

thronged them could see. Then loud voices proclaimed the presence of

the young Alexius, and demanded the loyal assent of the people to the

restoration of his father. Only mocking laughter came back from the

walls.

Then the Crusaders prepared for the attack. First it was necessary to

break the chain which crossed the Golden Horn from Galata, near what

is now Tophané, to near the point of the peninsula of Byzantium. A

fierce attack was made on the watch-tower at Galata, from which the

chain began. It was captured, the chain was loosed, and the fleet

sailed up the Golden Horn. The army was then landed beyond the walls,

where is now Eyoub, and took up a position opposite the Blachernae

quarter, which had so long been felt to be the weakest point. They

were opposed then by the wall of Manuel Comnenus which extended

southward of the wall of Heraclius, and considerably in advance of the

old Theodosian fortification. Moats, walls, towers, stood before them,

a defence hitherto unbroken, and which even before the last

fortification was erected it had been found impossible to overthrow.

And so it proved again. When the attack on July 17, 1203, was directed

against the northern point of the wall of the Blachernae quarter, near

the Xylo-porta, it was utterly defeated. And so again when Dandolo,

the old blind Doge, dauntless in bravery as adept in cunning, led the

attack from his galleys, their success was but temporary. The old

sea-dog had his galley drawn up close to the walls, threw himself on

shore, on the narrow strip of land that stood between the water and

the walls, and planted the gonfalon of S. Mark on one of the towers.

The ends of the flying bridges were thrust from the vessels on to the

towers and thus twenty-five were captured. But the Venetians could not

maintain their position, and when the Greeks were reported to have

made a sortie from the gate of S. Romanus, south of the Blachernae

quarter, they withdrew to help these other Crusaders who were

attacked.

Meanwhile within the walls disaffection with the government of Alexius

III. was growing into readiness to accept the new sovereign to be set

up by the Crusaders rather than to risk the chances of capture.

Alexius himself would do nothing to protect the city: and when he

brought out his troops to the sortie, he retired with them before any

fighting took place. Before the next day he himself fled across the

sea, deserting his wife and children and the city. The imprisoned

Isaac was at once released and placed upon the throne.

This was far from satisfying the greed of the Crusaders. It took away

from them every honest cause for attack. So they demanded through

Villehardouin, who has himself written us the account of it, that

Isaac should consent to the hard terms which Alexius his son had

agreed to--that the Empire should be placed under the Roman Pope; that

200,000 marks of silver should be given to the army, and that they

should be supported for a year; that 10,000 of them should be taken to

Egypt in Greek vessels at the Emperor's expense, and supported there

for a year; and that Isaac should agree, during the whole of his life,

to keep five hundred knights for the defence of the Holy Land. The

Emperor, though from the first he said that he thought it would be

impossible to carry it out, felt bound to give his consent to the

convention. Alexius was crowned in S. Sophia as joint occupant of his

father's throne, and it seemed as if the danger was at an end.

But it was only just begun. Some of the Crusaders wanted to push on at

once to the Holy Land or to Egypt; but they had not enough money, and

no ships. And the Venetians who held the ships delayed: they cared for

nothing but that the army should be divided. Within the city the

fiercest opposition was aroused when it was known that Alexius had

promised to subordinate the Church to Rome. He was making large

exactions too, to pay the men who had brought him back to his country.

Feeling against him rose rapidly in the capital. He left with Boniface

of Montferrat to pursue the fugitive Emperor to Adrianople.

During his absence the populace, eager to vent their rage upon the

foreigners, attacked the Pisan quarter: a sort of retaliatory measure

was the attack of the Crusaders on a Saracen mosque between S. Irene

and the sea. The Saracens had legal rights of toleration, and the

Christians of Constantinople defended them. The riot ended, as riots

so often do in the East, in a fire--and before it was over a great

strip of the most thickly populated part of the city, running right

across from the Golden Horn to the Mamora, was utterly destroyed.

Confusion soon reigned within the city. The old Emperor, so long

imprisoned, was weak and foolish; but young Alexius was equally weak

and enjoyed his new sovereignty without the slightest dignity. He

drank and gambled in the Crusaders' tents, took off his imperial

circlet, and wore the woollen caps of his boon companions. And he

could not find money to pay the incessant demands of the greedy host.

As new taxes were levied the citizens resisted, and eventually the

Western troops became really in need. They had not enough provisions:

why were they waiting: why were the ships not ready to carry them on

their quest?

At length all the allies agreed to demand formally of the Emperor the

payment of the money that was promised; if he refused they would defy

him to his face. The scene was another of those dramatic audacities

which so often flash across the history of the city. Villehardouin and

five others stood before the Emperors on their thrones in the palace

of Blachernae, and their spokesman, Conan de Bethune, spoke thus:

"We come to summon you in the presence of your barons to fulfil the

agreement made between you and us. If you fulfil it, well; if not,

take note that the barons will hold you neither for lord nor friend,

but they will deem themselves free to take what belongs to them as

they can get it. They give you warning that till they have defied you

they will do you no harm. They will not betray you; that is not the

custom of their land. Now you have heard what we have said, and you

will take counsel on the matter how you will."

No such speech, men said, had ever been made to a Roman Emperor; and

Villehardouin wonders that the envoys were allowed to depart in peace.

But for a week or two nothing happened. Yet the city was slowly rising

to fever point. Attacks were made on the Venetian fleet; the people

assembled in the great Church of S. Sophia and debated how they could

drive out the foreigner, and replace the dastard Emperors. Then it

seemed to Alexius that he must protect himself. He called on Boniface

of Montferrat to protect the palace with Frenchmen and Italians. That

sealed his fate.

Alexius Ducas, a kinsman of the Emperors and _protovestiarios_ of the

household, whom the people called "Mourtozouphlos" on account of his

thick overhanging eyebrows, determined to dethrone the Cæsars and

replace them. He prevailed on Alexius to leave the palace for safety,

and at once placed him in chains. In a few days both he and his father

were dead, and Alexius V. was crowned in S. Sophia.

The new Emperor set himself at once to defend the city, and at once he

drew down on him the vengeance of the Crusaders. They were, of course,

the defenders of Isaac Angelus and his son. "Never was so horrible a

treason committed by any people as deposing and imprisoning young

Alexius," says Villehardouin, who had a few days before taken part in

insulting him to his face. When a little later they heard that he was

dead, they paused for a while as though in dismay: their difficulties

grew on them: the storms of a January at Constantinople made them

reluctant to embark: and yet what could they do?

Henry Dandolo met the new Emperor in conference within the walls, and

demanded the submission of the Church to Rome and an immediate payment

of money. It is said that there was a treacherous attempt to capture

the Emperor. At any rate no compromise was arrived at, and the

divergent parties among the Crusaders agreed to besiege the city. Long

was the debate before the final step was taken. They talked, says

Villehardouin in his quaint way, before and behind. At last it was

agreed how to divide the spoil, how a new Emperor and a new patriarch

should be chosen.

On April 9, 1204, the first attack was delivered, on the Petrion or

Phanar, and the gate now called Petri Kapoussi at the east of the

church of the Patriarchate was first attacked. The invaders were

repulsed. A second attack, on the 12th, was more successful. "The

flying bridge of the _Pélerine_ lodged itself on a tower and allowed

a bold French knight, André d'Urboise, to rush across, seize the

tower, and clear a way for their comrades to follow. Here ladders were

then landed, the walls scaled, three gates forced, and the city thrown

open to the whole host of the invaders." In vain did Mourtozouphlos

try to rally his troops; he was forced to take refuge in the palace of

the Bucoleon. In the night he fled through the Golden Gate, through

which before Emperors had entered only in triumphal procession. Next

day the Crusaders entered; the palaces were occupied; the troops

marched through the streets; and then the horrible work of plunder and

ravage began.

Nicetas, the Grand Logothete, whose own house was burnt earlier in the

siege, and who now had to escape with his family as best he might,

tells piteous tales of the horrors that ensued. Of the destruction of

precious things it seems impossible to draw an adequate picture. S.

Sophia, then the richest as well as the finest church in the world,

was utterly despoiled; and what had been "an earthly heaven, a throne

of divine magnificence, an image of the firmament created by the

Almighty," became like a bare barn, and was defiled by the most

disgraceful scenes of profanity and horror.

When the church had been stripped of everything it contained, the

altars of precious metals broken up to be melted down, the vestments

and carpets and hangings carried off, the sacred vessels packed up

with the other plunder as if they were common things, the sacred icons

torn down from the splendid iconostasis; when the tombs of the

emperors had been rifled, and the body of Justinian cast out like that

of a criminal in the search for treasure, it might be thought that the

worst was over. It was not so. Then began the hunt for relics which

made not the least degrading part of the work of these soldiers of

Christ. Well was it said by a contemporary that if these soldiers had

when they besieged the city the shield of the Lord, now when they had

taken the city they threw away His shield and took the shield of the

devil. Bitter, and well deserved, were the words of Nicetas. "You have

taken up the Cross, and have sworn on it and on the Holy Gospels to us

that you would pass over the territory of Christians without shedding

blood and without turning to the right hand or to the left. You told

us that you had taken up arms against the Saracens only, and that you

would steep them in their blood alone. You promised to keep yourselves

chaste while you bore the Cross, as became soldiers enrolled under the

banner of Christ. Instead of defending His tomb, you have outraged the

faithful who are members of Him. You have used Christians worse than

the Arabs used the Latins, for they at least respected women."

Of the extraordinary quantity of ecclesiastical plunder taken by the

Crusaders we have the records collected by Comte Riant in his

monumental (and delightful) volumes of _Exuviæ Sacræ Constantinopolitanæ_.

It may be observed, to begin with, that he collects no less than a

hundred and forty-four letters relating to the reception in the West

of these stolen relics. To these are added endless references in the

chroniclers of the time, who were enchanted with the riches that

poured upon their religious houses, and displayed all the passion of a

collector of antiquities combined with the business instincts of a

dealer in curiosities and the piety of a hagiologist. In spite of all

this evidence--and there is more of it, in inscription, later lives of

the saints, and the like--it is impossible to discover exactly all

that was stolen, because the lists of the relics preserved in the

churches of Constantinople at the actual time of the siege have

disappeared. But it is possible of course, from earlier lists, as

well as from the sources already named, to discover what were the

greater part of the relics taken.

The riches of Constantinople were well known to the Crusaders when

they turned to besiege it. The stories of the earlier crusades were

well known, when the Greeks had loved to show the treasures of the

imperial city, the riches of S. Sophia, and even of the imperial

palace. In the East were almost all the most sacred survivals, nearly

all that remained in fact, or was believed to remain, of the relics of

the Saviour, His Mother, and most of His Apostles. In the West, till

the thirteenth century, there was practically nothing but the relics

of Western, and, therefore, comparatively modern, saints, and the few

more sacred treasures that had been given by Eastern sovereigns to

those of the West.

For three days the pillage went on. Churches escaped no more than

palaces or private houses. Indeed they were more greedily ransacked:

and after the days of direct pillage there came weeks, months, of

deliberate search for relics which had been concealed. The result was,

as M. Riant says, to rob Constantinople of two distinct sorts of

sacred objects; of relics, with or without their reliquaries, and of

ecclesiastical furniture. It seems that the treasures taken were

supposed to be placed in a common fund and divided proportionately

among the nations concerned; but there was a great deal of chicanery

and jobbery as well as of direct spoliation; ecclesiastical furniture

certainly was supposed to be divided like the other booty, but the

relics were regarded as too sacred for anything but direct robbery. It

should be added, also, that much that was not taken at first was

acquired during the period of the Latin Empire in ways more or less

legitimate. The robbery went on for forty years.

Time would fail to tell of the wonderful things that were discovered

and stolen. Almost every country in Europe received some fragments of

the True Cross, found by S. Helena. Besides this there were drops of

the Saviour's Blood, one of His teeth, some of His hair, the purple

robe, some of the bread blessed at the Last Supper, and countless

relics of the Blessed Virgin and the Apostles. The heads of S. John

Baptist and of many of the Apostles found their way to the West.

Venice was incomparably the largest gainer, but even the little church

of Bromholm in Norfolk, by a gift which was the result of a double

robbery, became the possessor of a fragment of the true Cross. The

Crusaders were not content with taking relics of the primitive Church,

but must needs take also the mortal remains of the Greek Fathers; you

may see the head of S. Chrysostom to-day in the cathedral of Pisa.

The reliquaries, the exquisite examples of Byzantine art, that were

scattered about the West, remain very often even now to witness to the

completeness of the spoliation. But artistically the things that were

destroyed, broken up or melted down, were far more precious than those

that survived. If S. Mark's still possesses the horses that once stood

in the Hippodrome of Constantinople, we know that magnificent statues

of Juno, of Paris, of Bellerophon, an exquisite figure of Helen, of

which Nicetas pathetically deplores that "she who had formerly led all

spectators captive could not soften the heart of the barbarians," and

many ancient works, statues, medallions, vases, were destroyed in the

furnace. There are remains of ancient art in Constantinople to-day;

but when we think of the pillage of 1204 and the Mohammedan Conquest

we marvel that there is anything more ancient than the sixteenth

century, or more valuable than a kettle or a candlestick of old time,

to be found in the whole city.

The capture of the city was followed by the election, by twelve

electors representing the Crusaders, of an Emperor for the throne of

the Cæsars. Baldwin Count of Flanders, by what process of intrigue we

do not know, was chosen. He was "heaved" upon the shield, as the

ancient custom was; he received the reverence of those who had been

his equals in the campaign; he was led in triumph to S. Sophia, and in

a strange mixture of Latin and Greek rites was consecrated, crowned

and enthroned a week after his election, as Cæsar and Augustus.

But this was not all. It is possible that in time the citizens, weary

of their decadent rulers, might have come to accept without active

discontent the rule of a gallant and chivalrous Christian knight such

as Baldwin. But the Crusaders, and most of all the Pope, would not be

content with this. If they were justified at all in the havoc they had

made it was only because the Easterns were heretics and idolaters and

schismatics. The Church of Constantinople was "rebellious and odious"

to that of Rome. It must be brought to submission. So a century later

the case is summed up, "God delivered the city into the hands of the

Latins because the Greeks declared that the Holy Ghost proceeded only

from the Father, and celebrated the mass with leavened bread." Such

was the feeling,--though the expression of it is somewhat of an

anachronism,--that animated now the leaders of the hosts, which, sated

with their debauchery, began to feel something of an inevitable

remorse.

But Innocent III. was of too pure a soul to countenance the iniquity

that had been committed. Among all the shameless hypocrisies of the

time his words of denunciation ring out true. Even the union of the

Churches on which he had set his heart seemed to him now to be

impossible. "Disappointment, shame, and anxiety weaken us when we ask

whether the Greek Church can enter into union with the Apostolic see

when that Church had seen among the Latins only the works of

darkness."

Meanwhile the Venetians set canons in the Church of S. Sophia, and

elected Morosini to be patriarch. It was an empty honour. In

fifty-seven years a Greek again was seated on the throne of Justinian,

and the Liturgy of S. Chrysostom was again sung in S. Sophia; but long

before that revolts had made the Latin hold on the East more and more

precarious, and the city more and more able to reassert its ancient

independence.

4. FROM THE LATIN CONQUEST TO THE CONQUEST BY THE TURKS.

It is unnecessary to tell of the division of the Empire among the

conquerors, or of how a daughter of Alexius III. wedded the heroic

Greek who still fought on, Theodore Lascaris, and was the ancestress

of one who eventually brought back the old Empire; of how

Mourtozouphlos was caught by the Latins and cast down from the top of

the column of Arcadius, or of how Greek states sprang into existence

on every side; how Baldwin the Emperor was captured by the Bulgarians

and died a horrible death. These events all happened within two years.

Henry, the brother of Baldwin, reigned in his stead. Henry Dandolo the

old doge died "in the fulness of years and glory" and was buried, it

would seem, in S. Sophia, where the great slab that covered his grave

is still to be seen. Ten years later Henry the Emperor passed away,

and Peter of Courtenay, husband of his sister Yolande reigned in his

stead. He reigned though crowned in Rome, only to be captured on his

way to Constantinople, and to pass away from history to an unknown

fate. Robert, his son, was crowned in S. Sophia in 1221. His fate was

hardly less ignominious. His successors, the child Baldwin II.

(Courtenay) and John of Brienne, were besieged in Constantinople by

the Greek so-called Emperor of Nicæa and John Asen, the Bulgarian

king, but the aged joint-Emperor successfully defended the city. The

young Baldwin went as a beggar to the chief courts of Europe, was the

pensioner of S. Louis, seated himself with difficulty on the throne,

descended to an ignoble marriage treaty with a Mohammedan Sultan and

sold the Crown of Thorns to the king of the Franks.

In the weakness into which they had fallen, it is not to be wondered

that the survivors of the Latin conquerors were easily vanquished by

the advancing power of the Greeks, and on July 25th, 1261, John Ducas

and Michael Palæologus were welcomed back by the exultant Greeks to

the throne of the Cæsars.

It was Alexius Strategopoulos, General and Cæsar, who captured the

city. By night he led his men to the gate of the Pegè (πύλη τῆς

πηγῆς)--the gate which led out to the spring of Balukli, now

called the gate of Selivria. The Latins had built up the entrance, but

some of the soldiers scaled the walls, and aided by friends within,

killed the guards, broke down the barricade, and opened the gate. A

few days later the Emperor, Michael Palæologus, entered in triumph. He

walked as far as the church of S. John of the Studium. Then he mounted

his horse and rode on to S. Sophia. So the Greeks had won back their

city. But the results of the Latin conquest and the years of strife

that followed it were not undone. The historian of that conquest has

thus summed them up.

"The results of the Fourth Crusade upon European civilisation were

altogether disastrous. The light of Greek civilisation, which

Byzantium had kept burning for nearly nine centuries after Constantine

had chosen it as his capital, was suddenly extinguished. The hardness,

the narrowness and the Hebraicism of western civilisation were left to

develop themselves with little admixture from the joyousness and the

beauty of Greek life. Every one knows that the Turkish conquest of

Constantinople dispersed throughout the West a knowledge of Greek

literature, and that such knowledge contributed largely to the

bringing about of the Reformation and of modern ways of thought. One

cannot but regret that the knowledge of Greek literature was so dearly

bought. If the dispersion of a few Greeks, members of a conquered and

therefore despised race, but yet carrying their precious manuscripts

and knowledge among hostile peoples, could produce so important a

result, what effect might not reasonably have been hoped for if the

great crime against which Innocent protested had not been committed?

Western Europe saw the sparks of learning dispersed among its people.

The light which had been continuously burning in a never forgotten

and, among the literary class, a scarcely changed language, had been

put out. The crime of the Fourth Crusade handed over Constantinople

and the Balkan peninsula to six centuries of barbarism, and rendered

futile the attempts of Innocent and subsequent statesmen to recover

Syria and Asia Minor to Christendom and civilisation. If we would

understand the full significance of the Latin conquest of

Constantinople, we must try to realise what might now be the

civilisation of Western Europe if the Romania of six centuries ago had

not been destroyed. One may picture not only the Black Sea, the

Bosphorus, and the Marmora surrounded by progressive and civilised

nations, but even the eastern and southern shores of the Mediterranean

given back again to good government and a religion which is not a

barrier to civilisation."[25]

The restored Empire of the Greeks was ruled for some years with wisdom

and enthusiasm. Michael Palæologus was of an ancient family already

allied with the imperial house, and "in his person the splendour of

birth was dignified by the merit of the soldier and statesman." He was

admitted as the guardian, and then as the colleague, of the

child-Emperor John. The gallant Varangians, the northern soldiers

whose force had been replenished by fresh blood from year to year, and

had never deserted the imperial house, had raised him to the throne,

and he ruled with a severity and determination that bore down all

opposition.

It was his first task to cleanse and restore the palace of Blachernae,

left filthy and dilapidated by Baldwin II. Then he set about the

restoration of the walls. His chief attention was paid to the sea

walls, which he raised seven feet by means of wooden erections covered

with hide; and later he began to make a double line of walls to

protect the sea side of the city as the land side was protected. He

took the harbour of the Kontoscalion (in front of what is now Koum

Kapoussi) for a dockyard, had it dredged and deepened, protected by an

iron mole and "surrounded with immense blocks, closed with iron

gates." But he was determined to rule alone, and before the end of the

year he had blinded his young colleague and banished him. He was

excommunicated by the patriarch Arsenius, and a schism was caused by

his banishment of the prelate, which was not healed for nearly fifty

years.

Fearing a renewed invasion by the Latins he did his utmost to make

alliances to protect himself. He established the Genoese in a settled

concession at Galata, hoping to make them a firm support against their

rivals of Venice. But this act only made the commercial rivalries

stronger, and planted a power which soon became hostile on the very

shores of the capital and in command of the Golden Horn. "The Roman

Empire," says Gibbon, "might soon have sunk into a province of Genoa,

if the Republic had not been checked by the ruin of her freedom and

naval power." No less disastrous was the attempt of Michael to unite

with the Roman Church. Urban IV. had taken up the cause of the young

Baldwin and called on the powers to make Crusade. Michael endeavoured

to meet him by diplomacy if not by submission. His envoys attended the

council held at Lyons in 1274 by the Pope Gregory X. Veccus, who had

long opposed the union of the churches, underwent a sharp imprisonment

in the prison of Anemas, but being convinced of the error of his

opinions was released to mount the patriarchal throne. But all these

measures were in vain. On questions of faith it should not have been

impossible for candid men, as the history of Veccus shows, to bring

the churches into essential union, but the claim of the Popes to

supremacy, which they emphasised by the mission of legates, was one

which the Church of Constantinople has never admitted. Michael died in

1282. Already his attempt had failed, and he died excommunicated by

pope and patriarch. The restorer of the Empire was unworthy to rank

among its heroes, and the historian of the Greek people has described

him in language of severity that is well deserved. "He was selfish,

hypocritical, able and accomplished, an inborn liar, vain, meddling,

ambitious, cruel and rapacious. He has gained renown as the restorer

of the Eastern Empire; he ought to be execrated as the corrupter of

the Greek race, for his reign affords a signal example of the extent

to which a nation may be degraded by the misconduct of its sovereign

when he is entrusted with despotic power."

Of his intrigues, the most important of which was his encouragement of

the revolt of John of Procida against the French in Sicily, ever

memorable as the Sicilian Vespers, it can only be said that they may

have saved him from attack. Catalan mercenaries, who after the

expulsion of the French from Sicily came into the service of the

Empire, overwhelmed its fairest provinces with rapine and disaster. It

is a history which makes Gibbon for once ascend the pulpit of the

preacher of righteousness. "I shall not, I trust, be accused of

superstition; but I must remark that, even in this world, the natural

order of events will sometimes assume the strong appearances of moral

retribution. The first Palæologus had saved his Empire by involving

the kingdoms of the West in rebellion and blood; and from these seeds

of discord uprose a generation of iron men, who assaulted and

endangered the Empire of his son."

Andronicus II., indeed, had a long but disastrous reign. He continued

his father's works at the harbour of the Kontoscalion. He repaired the

sea walls, and in 1317, when his wife, Irene, died and left him some

money, the impoverished Cæsar was able to undertake a general repair

of the whole of the fortifications. Otherwise he is known in the

history of the city only for his disputes with the patriarch, his

abject submissions, and his misfortunes. His son, Michael IX., was

from 1295 to 1320 the associate of his throne, and won universal

praise. His grandson, Andronicus III., sank to the pleasures which had

disgraced so many of his predecessors, but when his iniquities were

too flagrant to be concealed, when his brother Manuel was murdered, it

was believed, through his orders, and his father, Michael IX., died of

grief, he took up arms against his grandfather, secured his own

coronation, and then the absolute submission of the aged Emperor.

Andronicus lived in 1332 in the great palace, but in absolute penury.

He took monastic vows and died, no longer as Emperor, but as the poor

monk Antony.

Andronicus the younger (III.), though he married princesses of Western

houses, did not add to the dignity of the Eastern Empire. He died in

1341, and left behind him a child of eight, the son of his second

wife, Agnes of Savoy. He was protected by John Cantacuzene, who had

protected his father, and finally won him the crown, and who himself

bore a character that was high among the best of the Byzantine

statesmen and generals. But palace intrigues and attacks of interested

politicians against him, at last obliged him, as he declares--for he

is his own historian--to assume the Imperial title. In the war that

ensued it seems that while the people supported the Palæologi, the

officials supported the new claimant. It gave the opportunity to the

Servian king, Stephen Dashan, to extend his territories and threaten

to replace the Emperors as leaders of the Greek peoples. Strip by

strip the territory of the Empire was shorn away, and Serbians, Turks,

and Albanians left little to be conquered by Cantacuzene. At last,

after previous failures, he advanced to the walls again in 1347 and

was admitted secretly by his friends through the Golden Gate. For

once, what was practically a change of dynasty was accomplished

without bloodshed. John Cantacuzene became Emperor and gave his

daughter in marriage to John Palæologus. It is said by a contemporary

that so poor were even the imperial houses that at the wedding feast

the illustrious personages had to be served in earthenware and pewter:

strange change from the time when the very walls of the palace

glittered with gold. In seven years the balance of power changed

completely. War, first joint against the Serbians, then hostile

against each other, was ended, it seemed, in favour of Cantacuzene by

the assistance--a woeful precedent--of the Turks, now settled in

Europe and the masters of Adrianople. But when the successful Emperor

tried to associate his son Matthew on the throne, the feeling of

Constantinople turned strongly against him. In 1358, John Palæologus

whose seat of government had been fixed at Thessalonica, arrived, with

but two galleys and two thousand men, on a dark night at the gate of

the Hodegetria on the Sea of Marmora. Bringing their vessels quite

close to the gate, they made every sign of distress, throwing out

oil-jars and uttering cries for help. The stratagem succeeded; the

guards opened the gate and came to their assistance. They were

overpowered, and the troops rushed in and captured the adjoining

tower. The city rose in favour of the young Palæologus, and John

Cantacuzene with great willingness, if he is to be believed in his own

case, retired from the throne and entered a monastery, where he died

in 1383.

Each change of Emperor marked the more clearly the coming end of the

Empire. John VI. Palæologus "carelessly watched the decline of the

Empire for thirty-six years," from the day when he became sole ruler.

He saw the growth of the Turkish power, and he sought the aid of Urban

V. for the final contest that he saw must come. In 1361 he was

decisively defeated before Adrianople, and in later years he was

little better than the vassal of the Sultan. He himself went to Rome

in 1369, and submitted to the Latin Church, on the points of the

Procession of the Holy Spirit, the use of unleavened bread and the

supremacy of the Roman See. So poor was he that he was arrested at

Venice, on his return, for debt. The Cæsar of the East had indeed sunk

low.

He was compelled to aid Sultan Murad with troops, and during his

absence in Asia, apparently in 1374, his eldest son, Andronicus,

secured Constantinople, in alliance with the Turkish Sultan's son,

also a rebel against his father. By the aid of Murad, Andronicus was

seized. He was imprisoned in the tower of Anemas with his wife and his

son John, then only five years old. He was to have been blinded, but

perhaps in mercy the sight of one eye was not harmed. After two years

he was released, and he at once made alliance with the Genoese and

with the Sultan Bayezid, and marched to the capital. He caught his

father and his brother Manuel, who were at the palace of the Pegé, now

the village of Balukli, and sent them with his younger brother

Theodore to the prison in which he himself had been confined, "as

Zeus," says the historian Ducas, with a classic touch such as the

Greeks always delighted to use, "cast his father Kronos and his

brothers Pluto and Poseidon into Tartarus." Andronicus entered the

city by the Selivri Kapoussi (gate of the Pege), and held the throne

for two years and a half. Bayezid urged him to kill his father and

brothers, but he would not; and within two years, in some way, as to

which the historians--none of whom are strictly contemporary--differ,

they escaped, and with the aid of Murad, or Bayezid (for again the

dates are doubtful), attacked the city, entered by the gate of S.

Romanus, and defeated Andronicus, who was allowed to retire to

Selivria as ruler of the adjacent lands. In 1384 Manuel was recognised

as heir to his father. These changes were all effected by the aid of

the Turks, and of the cities of Genoa and Venice, who, it might seem,

gave the city to whom they would; and when John VI. began to repair

the walls which thirty-six years before he had himself despoiled, he

was stopped by order of Bayezid and compelled to destroy what he had

done.

In his time decay visibly laid its hand on the still splendid city.

Many of the streets, it is said, were almost in ruins, the palaces

empty, and the costliest and most beautiful treasures of the ancient

Byzantine art had been sold to the Genoese and the Venetians. But for

the defeat of Bayezid by Timur, the prize would have fallen into the

hands of the Turks half a century before it was theirs at last.

Manuel II. had an unquiet reign. Forced to yield on every side to the

demands of the Sultan, blockaded in Constantinople, he was at last

forced to admit his cousin John, the son of Andronicus, as joint

Emperor, in 1399, a title which he seems to have borne but a short

time.

For a while it seemed that the distractions and defeats of the Turks

might give opportunity for a revival of the Empire. In 1411 a Turkish

attack on Constantinople was driven off; but the Greeks were incapable

of using their own victories or the weakness of their enemies; and

though Manuel made some reforms in the administration the members of

his household thwarted him on every side. The years of peace were

wasted, and in 1422 Murad II. appeared before the walls of the

imperial city.

The defeat of the Turks--their last--was soon followed by the death of

Manuel (1425). John VII. set himself to repair the walls, but he could

not rebuild or repopulate the city. The decay, in spite of the outward

splendour, the disgraceful subjection of the Emperor to the Turks, and

the hatred of the Greeks for the Westerns, all struck the keen

observer Bertrandon de la Brocquière, a Burgundian knight, who visited

the city in 1433. The despairing effort of the Emperor was to win the

help of a new crusade by union with the Latin Church.

Those who have stood in admiration before the frescoes of Benozzo

Gozzoli in the Riccardi Palace at Florence will remember the solemn

impressive figure of John Palæologus, in his gorgeous robes, as he

rides in the procession of the Magi, a stately personage contrasting

markedly with the bourgeois Medici who follow him. Italians knew the

Eastern Emperor, for in 1438 he stood with the patriarch before the

Council of Ferrara, and in the next year, in Florence itself accepted,

with his bishops (save the bishop of Ephesus), the doctrines of the

Latins, and joined on July 6, 1439, in the proclamation beneath the

dome of Brunelleschi, then only three years completed, of the unity of

the Catholic Church of East and West.

When he returned to Constantinople the people refused to accept the

union, and even the bishops who had signed the decrees of Florence now

repudiated their act as a sin. No help came from the West; and John

died in 1448, having preserved his throne even by temporising with the

Turks.

Constantine Palæologus was the eldest surviving son of the Emperor

Manuel. He could only ascend the throne by the consent of the Sultan,

and when that was obtained he was crowned in Sparta, where he had

ruled. On the 12th of March 1449 he entered Constantinople. The city

was receiving its new lord with exultation and joy, says his friend

and chronicler Phrantzes. So long as Murad still reigned they were

indeed safe, but when Mohammed II. became Sultan it was clear that

there would be war.

Constantine turned--it was his only hope--to the West for aid. He

sent an embassy to Rome begging for help, and showing willingness to

renew the union of the Churches. The Pope, Nicholas V., sent back

Cardinal Isidore, who had once been a Russian bishop, but, having

accepted the decrees of Florence, had remained loyal to them, and was

an exile from his country in consequence. He arrived at Constantinople

in November 1452, bringing some money and a few troops. On December

12, 1452, the union was ratified in S. Sophia, and Cardinal Isidore

said mass according to the Latin rite. From that day the people

regarded the church as desecrated. In the church and monastery of the

Pantokrator the monk Gennadios preached against the crime and folly of

the union. Many of the great nobles cried out against it; one even

declared that the Sultan would be a far better lord than the Pope. As

Constantine rode through the streets daily the mob mocked and reviled

him; and some cried out "rather than that we should be Latins would we

be Turks." The holy sacrifice of the Body and Blood of Christ they

rejected, declaring that it was polluted. Even if an angel from heaven

had descended and declared that he would save the city if only the

people would unite with the Roman Church the people would have

refused. So the chroniclers describe the disunion within. Without, the

preparations were complete.

The conquerors of Constantinople had had a romantic history. A horde

of barbarians, coming from the far East, and a branch of the race

known to Chinese historians as the Hiung-no, they emerge into history

in the sixth century, then assuming the name of Turk, which they were

to make famous. In the latter half of that century they became known

to the rulers of Constantinople. In 568 embassies came to the Emperor

from the Northern Turks. Eight years later an embassy was sent to the

Southern Turks. At the very end of the century an embassy came to the

Emperor Maurice in 598 from the Khan of the Turks, now claiming to be

a great sovereign. But it was more than six centuries before the

Empire came face to face with the actual tribe which should found the

power that was to take its place. Pressed hard by the Seljuks, with

territories limited to the Bithynian province, it was not till the

beginning of the fourteenth century that Osman, the founder of the

Osmanlis, came forward as a leader who should begin a line of mighty

sovereigns.

Legends surround the life of Osman; his dream of a great tree which

should overshadow the world, of Constantinople won by clashing swords,

of the ring of universal Empire, his romantic love suit, belong

perhaps to history, but only as it appears magnified by an imagination

fired by the wonderful successes of later years. More certain are the

capture of Nicaea and of Brusa, accomplished by his son,--the latter

still the picture of a Turkish city, with its innumerable mosques, its

trees and gardens, its population half-military, but now wholly

languid and quiescent. The sword of Osman is still the sign of power

among his descendants. It rests in the türbeh of Eyûb, the companion

of Mohammed himself, who fell not by the sword but by disease during

the first Moslem attack on Constantinople in 672, and over whose grave

Mohammed the Conqueror built a tomb, to the Moslems the most sacred of

all in the city they had made their own. Osman was brought to Brusa

only to be buried. His son Orchan carried fire and sword nearer and

nearer to the goal. It was he who founded the terrible corps of the

Janissaries, Christian child captives trained by the sternest methods

to be the fiercest champions of Islam. In 1326 Orchan captured

Nicomedia; in 1330 he defeated the imperial host led against him by

the Emperor himself, and Nicaea fell into his hands. He showed the

wisdom and restraint which, combined with the daring and ferocity of

his men, served to strengthen the Turkish power step by step in the

districts it won. Nicaea was not pillaged. Its citizens were allowed

to live on in peace under Moslem laws, and Orchan himself by every act

of charity and of devotion to his religion sought, and won, the

respect of the people whom he had conquered. Then for twenty years he

rested and prepared. Brusa was enriched with mosques and hospitals,

tombs of soldiers and prophets, fountains, baths, colleges of students

of the Koran. There rest to-day the first six Sultans, among "some

five hundred tombs of famous men, pashas, scheiks, professors,

orators, physicians, poets, musicians."

The years of waiting ended when in 1346 the power of Orchan was so

great, and was recognised to be so dangerous, that John Cantacuzene,

the Christian Cæsar, did not hesitate to purchase his friendship by

the gift of his daughter Theodora, in a marriage performed with all

the pomp of a State ceremonial, but without even the form of a

Christian blessing. The friendship thus bought was never yielded. The

Osmanlis crossed to Europe in freebooting bands, and ravaged up to the

very walls of Constantinople; and when the Genoese whom Cantacuzene

had settled at Galata fought with him and destroyed his fleet, it was

with the aid of Orchan that they fought against their benefactor. In

1356 Orchan's son, Suleiman, inspired like his grandfather by a dream

or a vision which he took as a supernatural summons, crossed to Europe

with but thirty-nine companions, and took the fort of Tzympe near

Gallipoli. In three days there were three thousand Turks settled in

Europe. It was the beginning of an Empire which lasts to this day. The

occupation of Gallipoli followed, and when Orchan died in 1359, the

Turks had settled down to wait, for a hundred years, till the Queen

city herself should fall into their hands.

Before him his son Suleiman had passed away; and his tomb at the

northern entrance to the Hellespont seemed to mark the country for the

possession of the Turks. "For a hundred years he was the only Ottoman

prince who lay buried in European earth; and his tomb continually

incited the races of Asia to perform their pilgrimage to it with the

sword of conquest. Of all the hero-tombs," says Von Hammer, "which

have hitherto been mentioned in connection with Ottoman history, there

is none more renowned, or more visited, than that of the second Vizier

of the Empire, the fortunate crosser of the Hellespont, who laid the

foundation of the Ottoman power in Europe."

Already the military organisation was founded, and the system which

had made in the brother of Orchan as Vizier the civil ruler of the

people. Now the settlement in Europe was begun. Murad (or Amurath, as

our forefathers called the name), the younger brother of Suleiman,

succeeded his father. In less than thirty years he had transformed the

face of Southern Europe, and made the Emperor of Rome but a dependent

of his power. He landed and established his armies in Thrace. He

defeated the Hungarians and Serbians and captured Nisch; he pressed

southwards and Adrianople fell into his hands; and then when the

circle of Turkish territory was drawn closely round Constantinople, he

turned northwards and became the conqueror of the northern lands ruled

by princes Christian yet still barbarian, who had long before this

conquered them from the Empire. In 1389 Murad was slain, after a great

victory, by Milosch Kobilovitsch, the hero of Serbian legend. Bayezid,

his son, reigned in his stead; and he began the fatal custom which

still further consolidated the monarchy. On the very day of his

accession he had his brother murdered, and so wise was the precedent

considered that by the time of Mohammed the Conqueror it became a law

that every brother of the Sultan should be slain. He began, too, it is

asserted, the hideous vices which have stained the Empire of his

successors, and which degraded the courts of the Sultan with the guilt

of the rulers and the shame of their captives.

The battle of Kossova, the last fight of Murad, was followed before

long by that of Nicopolis, in which the choicest chivalry of Europe

went down before the fierce onslaught of the Turkish squadrons. The

captives, all but twenty-four knights, who were spared, were butchered

in cold blood in the presence of their comrades, before the tent of

Bayezid.

Then Bayezid led his hosts to the conquest of Greece; and in 1397

Athens fell before his arms. The Cæsars bowed before him, suffered a

mosque to be built within the walls of Constantinople, and actually

joined their arms to his for the capture of the one Greek city which

remained free in the midst of the European conquests of the Turks.

When at last the insolent Sultan demanded that the crown of the

Emperors should be yielded to him, and threatened to exterminate the

inhabitants of the capital if he were not obeyed, it is said that the

nobles replied: "We know our weakness, but we trust in the God of

justice, who protects the weak and lowly, and puts down the mighty

from on high." It was an answer that befitted the ancient city.

Before the attack was made that seemed certain to prove fatal to the

last stronghold, the capital of the Christian Empire, Bayezid was

called away to meet the onslaught of the greatest of conquerors, Timur

the Tartar. The great battle of Angora shattered the Turkish power,

destroyed the Janissaries and left Bayezid himself a prisoner in the

hands of Timur. Before a year was over, the proud Sultan died, and the

power which he had made so great was utterly crushed beneath the feet

of the Tartars.

Brusa itself was left in ruins, and not only the son of Bayezid, who

was safe in Adrianople, made submission, but even the Emperor paid

tribute to Timur. Then the conquering horde swept back again to the

Far East, and the Turks set to work to rebuild again the power that

had been shattered.

Domestic warfare succeeded the destruction at the hands of foreign

foes, and Mohammed I., the youngest son of Bayezid, established his

authority over his brothers as ruler of the Osmanlis by the aid of the

Emperor Manuel Palæologus. His brother Musa laid siege to

Constantinople, and the troops of Mohammed actually joined with those

of Manuel in the successful defence of the city. Mohammed was the

ally, almost the subject, of the Emperor, and when he died he sought

to commend his children to Manuel's care.

Mohammed died in 1421 at Adrianople. His son Murad II. had to fight

for his throne against a pretender whom the Emperor had set free, and

whom he overcame only by the help of the Genoese galleys which carried

him from Asia to Europe. In 1422 he was ready to revenge himself on

the Greeks. His army encamped before the walls of Constantinople, and

his own tent was set up in the garden of the Church of the Blessed

Virgin of the Fountain (Balukli). He brought his cannon to bear upon

the walls that cross the valley of the Lycus, but without success. The

walls of Theodosius were still too strong, and the fierce attack on

the gate of S. Romanus was a failure now, as it would not be thirty

years later.

The city was stoutly defended. John Palæologus, the Emperor's son,

commanded a garrison inspired by the fullest religious enthusiasm: and

when a vision of the Blessed Virgin, the Panhagia, was seen on the

walls, both by assailants and defenders, the siege was given up; and

the Sultan did not attempt to renew it. Still, a tribute was paid by

the Emperor, and it must have been clear to the Osmanlis that the

capture was but for a short time deferred. But Murad had to undergo

defeats at the hands of the Hungarians, which he amply avenged: and

his two abdications showed that he was weary of power, if not

incapable of wielding it. The end of his reign saw him repeatedly

over-matched by the Albanian hero, Scanderbeg, whom he himself had

trained among the Janissaries. In 1451 he died; and then the greatest

triumph of the Osmanlis was at hand.

The early history of Mohammed II. has been thus summed up, in the

clear-cut eloquence of Dean Church.

"Three times did Mohammed the Conqueror ascend the Ottoman throne.

Twice he had resigned it, a sullen and reluctant boy of fourteen, whom

it was necessary to inveigle out of the way, lest he should resist his

father to the face, when, to save the State, he appeared to resume his

abdicated power. The third time, seven years older, he sprang on the

great prize with the eagerness and ferocity of a beast of prey. He

never drew bridle from Magnesia, when he heard of his father's death,

till on the second day he reached Gallipoli, on his way to Adrianople.

To smother his infant brother in the bath was his first act of power;

and then he turned, with all the force of his relentless and insatiate

nature to where the inheritor of what remained of the greatness of the

Cæsars--leisurely arranging marriages and embassies--still detained

from the Moslems the first city of the East;--little knowing the

savage eye that was fixed upon him, little suspecting the nearness of

a doom which had so often threatened and had been so often averted."

It did not need the half-defiant attitudes of Constantine XII. to

arouse the young Sultan: as soon as he had concluded a truce with his

northern foes he began to make those elaborate preparations which

should ensure success in the great conquest. His first act was to

secure the isolation of the capital. Already he held the passage of

the Dardanelles; now he would secure that of the Bosphorus. In 1393

Bayezid had built on the Asiatic shore, some five miles above

Constantinople, the fortress which was the first distinct menace to

the imperial city. Anadoli Hissar, the "Asiatic Castle," still stands

overhanging the water's edge, a splendid mediæval building of four

square towers with one great central keep. In 1452 a corresponding

tower was begun on the other side of the sea, at the point where the

passage is narrowest. The first stone was laid by Mohammed himself on

March 26, 1452, and by the middle of August the castle was completed.

The design of this Roumeli Hissar represented the name of the Prophet

and the Sultan, the consonants standing out as towers. Protests were

unheeded and the two envoys sent by the Emperor to remonstrate were

butchered at once. A Venetian galley was sunk as it passed, to prove

the range of the guns. Its crew were slain when they swam ashore. A

Hungarian engineer was employed to direct a cannon foundry, and a vast

store of materials of war was accumulated for the siege. After another

winter's preparation all was ready, and early in the spring of 1453 a

vast Turkish host[26] was ranged from the Golden Horn to the Marmora.

The sea was covered by three hundred vessels and it seemed as if

succour was cut off on every side.

On April 6, 1453, the siege began.

The last message of the Roman Emperor to the Turkish Sultan had been

somewhat in these words: "As it is plain thou desirest war more than

peace, as I cannot satisfy thee by my vows of sincerity or by my

readiness to swear allegiance, so let it be according to thy will. I

turn now and look above to God. If it be His will that the city should

become thine, where is he who can oppose His will? If He should

inspire thee with a wish for peace, I shall indeed be happy.

Nevertheless I release thee from all thy oaths and treaties to me, I

close the gates of my city, I will defend my people to the last drop

of my blood. And so, reign in happiness till the Righteous and Supreme

Judge shall call us both before the seat of His judgment."

It was in this spirit that Constantinople stood to meet the foe.

Mohammed when he came in sight of the walls, spread his carpet on the

ground and turning towards Mecca prayed for the success of his

enterprise. Everywhere throughout the camp the Ulemas promised victory

and the delights of Paradise.

On April 7, the Turkish lines were drawn opposite the walls. The tent

of the Sultan himself was placed opposite the gate of S. Romanus (Top

Kapoussi). Thence to his right the Asiatic troops stretched down to

the sea, to his left past the gate of Charisius (Edirnè Kapoussi), the

European levies extended northwards to the Golden Horn. Within four

days sixty-nine cannon were set in position against the walls, and

with them ancient engines, such as catapults and balistae, discharging

stones. On the heights about Galata also a strong body of troops was

placed.

[Illustration: ROUMELI HISSAR]

Within, measures had been taken to repair the walls, but it is said

that the money had been embezzled by the two monks, skilled in

engineering, to whom it had been given, and in some places the

fortifications were not strong enough to support cannon. Constantine

sought help from every side. On April 20, four ships laden with grain

forced their way through the Turkish fleet, but they added few if any

to the defenders. The Venetian aid that had been promised did not

arrive even at Euboea till two days after the Turks had captured the

city. Of troops within, Phrantzes, who himself had charge of the

search, states that there were hardly seven thousand in all, of whom

two thousand were foreigners. Others give higher numbers, but there is

no reason to doubt the accuracy of the Emperor's most trusted friend.

Strange it seems that outside, in the Sultan's army, some thirty

thousand Christians were fighting for the infidels. Phrantzes says

that when he heard that some of the Byzantine nobles had left the

city, the Emperor only heaved a deep sigh.

Of the arrangements for defence, the fullest accounts can be found in

the writings of Phrantzes and Ducas, the letters of Archbishop

Leonardo of Mitylene and of Cardinal Isidore, the report of the

Florentine Tedardi, two poems, and a Slavonic MS. quoted by M.

Mijatovich.[27]

Here it is needless to tell how each wall was manned. It may suffice

to say that during the few weeks that passed, while the Christians

still kept their foes at bay, there was no rest for the besieged.

Sometimes when the Emperor went on his rounds to inspect the defences

he found the weary soldiers asleep at their posts. He seemed himself

to be sleepless; every hour that he did not devote to the defences he

seemed to spend at prayer.

He visited every post himself; he even crossed the Golden Horn in a

small boat to be sure of the security of the great chain which

stretched from the tower of Galata to what is now called Seraglio

Point. Every hour he had to contend with new difficulties, with monks

declaring that defence was hopeless because of the union with the

Latins, with Italian mercenaries clamouring for pay. He was compelled

to take the furniture of the churches when the treasures of the palace

were quite exhausted, but he promised if God should free the city to

restore to Him fourfold.

After nearly a week in which the heavy Turkish cannon thundered

against the walls, the gunners learned at last from the Hungarian

envoys to their camp how to direct their fire. At length, on April 18,

at the hour of vespers, a great attack was made. The people rushed out

from the churches, and the air was filled with the cries of the

combatants, the ringing of the bells, the clash of arms. The attack

was strongest against the weak walls by the Blachernae quarter, and by

the gate of S. Romanus. After hours of hard fighting it was repulsed,

and Te Deum was sung in all the churches for the victory.

The victory of the 18th, followed by that of the 20th, when the ships

broke up the whole Turkish fleet and rode triumphantly into the Golden

Horn, inspirited the besieged. But on the 21st the cannonade brought

down one of the towers that defended the gate of S. Romanus. The

Sultan was not on the spot, and the Turks were not ready to make

assault, so the opportunity passed. After these victories the Emperor

hoped that it was possible to induce the Sultan to retire. He offered

to surrender everything but the city, and there were some in the

infidel camp who would have been ready to make terms, but Mohammed

would offer only that the whole Peloponnesus should be Constantine's

in undisturbed possession, if he would yield the city. The terms were

rejected, and the Emperor prepared for the worst.

But still the Turks were far from the end of their task. Long though

the extent of land walls was that had to be manned, it was not

difficult to protect it with a comparatively small force. A low

counter-scarp enclosed a moat, over which rose the scarp surmounted by

breastworks. Above this was the line of the outworks, with towers

advanced here and there from their surface. Behind, and also protected

by high towers, was the inner or great wall, with breast work and

rampart. It was "the most perfect of Eastern fortresses,"[28] and

might indeed seem impregnable. Every wall had its "military engines

capable of playing on the siege-works of the beleaguering army." And

as the walls "were loopholed at a stage below the battlements," the

"garrison could fire not merely from the parapets but from a well

protected second line of openings." While therefore it was quite

possible to defend the land walls, the besieged relied for ultimate

safety on being able to leave without risk the walls of the Golden

Horn and the sea practically undefended. The Turkish fleet would not

venture to draw near to the Marmora walls. The Golden Horn was safe

with Galata on the other side--though the Genoese held aloof, through

treaty probably with Mohammed--and the chain across. The Sultan had

already tried to force the chain but failed. So it seemed safe:--

"Till Birnam wood shall come to Dunsinane."

But the genius of the Sultan, or as one authority says, a Christian in

his army, devised a scheme which at once made him the master of the

city. He determined to transport his fleet overland into the Golden

Horn from the Bosphorus. An extraordinary feat it was, but it was

splendidly performed. A narrow canal was dug, paved, and set with

rollers. The point of starting was between Top Haneh and Beshiktash,

out of the range of the fort at Galata. Thence between two and three

miles up the valley of Dolma Bagtché the seventy or eighty ships were

drawn by night up the hill of Pera to the point where now the gardens

stand just below the Hotel Bristol, and thence down the hill to the

bay of Kassim Pasha where now stands the great Arsenal.[29] When the

watchers on the towers of Galata and the Kentatarion by the Gate of

Eugenius could see through the fogs of dawn on the morning of April

22, the great fleet was no longer before them in the Bosphorus, but

behind in the Golden Horn there rode the gallant vessels with their

flags flying in the breeze. The north-east wall must be reinforced.

How could it be done?

The Venetian ships in the harbour determined to attack the Turks

before they could complete the great pontoon which they were preparing

to bring up. For some days, however, nothing was done. The attacks on

the land walls continued and were beaten back, often with heavy loss.

But each day provisions were growing less and the defenders were

growing weaker. On the morning of April 28th two Venetian galleys,

three smaller ships, and two stored with fire, advanced upon the

Turks. They were received with the fire of four cannon. The great

galley of Gabrielo Trevisani sank, and one of the smaller ships. Only

one of the Turkish ships caught fire. The Venetians who swam to shore

when their ships sank were beheaded next day in sight of the defenders

of the walls. A bitter revenge was taken. Over two hundred and fifty

Turks had at some time or other been captured and lay in the prisons

of Constantinople. They were now all beheaded on the walls in sight of

their kindred. The horrible act made certain what would be the fate of

the city if it fell.

And internal dissensions made the fall seem imminent. The Venetians

accused the Genoese and the Genoese the Venetians for the failure of

their attack on the Turkish fleet, till Constantine himself called

their leaders before him and besought them to be at peace. "The war

without," he said, "is enough; by the mercy of God seek not war among

ourselves." "So," says Phrantzes, "with much speech at length he

pacified them."

Next day and on the first of May the Turkish cannon did some damage;

but in some parts the fire was utterly unable to penetrate or dislodge

the splendid masonry, and one tower near the Lycus, it is said, was

struck by over seventy balls without suffering in the slightest; and

the great gun built by the Hungarian mercenary Ourban was dismounted

by the fire of the cannon directed by the gallant Genoese engineer

Giustiniani, who, with four hundred of his countrymen, manned the

walls near the gate of S. Romanus. Mohammed himself was standing by

the gun at the moment, and in rage called his troops at once to the

assault. They crossed the counter-scarp and began to pull down the

scarp where it had been repaired; but again the defenders drove them

back.

It was said when the attack began the walls were but half manned, as

some of the soldiers had actually left their posts to go home to

dine. This laxity, as soon as it was discovered, was of course

stopped; but it shows how utterly the people, safe for centuries

behind their defences, had forgotten the meaning of war.

The Emperor on the 3rd of May sent out a ship which penetrated through

the Turkish fleet, being disguised with Turkish colours, to beg aid.

It was plain that if it were much delayed it would be too late. A

council of war, indeed, advised the Emperor to escape while it was

still possible. The Patriarch and the Senators urged him to go,

assuring him that he could then easily gather an army to relieve the

city. "The emperor," we are told, "listened to all this quietly and

patiently. At last, after having been for some time in deep thought,

he began to speak: 'I thank you all for the advice which you have

given me. I know that my going out of the city might be of some

benefit to me, inasmuch as all that you foresee might really happen.

But it is impossible for me to go away: how could I leave the churches

of our Lord, and His servants the clergy, and the throne, and my

people in such a plight? What would the world say of me? I pray you,

my friends, in future do not say to me anything else but, 'Nay, sire,

do not leave us.' Never, never, will I leave you. I am resolved to die

here with you.' And saying this, the Emperor turned his head aside,

because tears filled his eyes; and with him wept the Patriarch and all

who were there."[30]

In the next two days a ship was sunk, and the other Christian vessels

were compelled to withdraw outside the chain. A Genoese merchant ship

was also sunk, and when the merchants of Galata protested, declaring

that they were entirely neutral, the Grand Vizier promised to

compensate them, when the city was taken.

During the next week the breach by the gate of S. Romanus was daily

widened, and on the 7th of May a desperate attack was made upon the

walls. But again with splendid courage the Turks were beaten back,

though some of the bravest of the defenders fell.

On the 12th of May a breach was made in the walls north of the palace

of the Porphyrogenitus, and thousands of Turks poured in. It was only

the arrival of Constantine himself, summoned hastily from a council of

war, that drove forth the hosts after hot fighting. The Emperor would

have pushed through and fought hand to hand in the ditch, we are told,

if he had not been held back by his nobles.

From this date every effort was concentrated upon the gate of S.

Romanus. There more cannon were directed; and in return men were

brought from the fleet, now felt to be useless, to man the walls. One

of the towers fell; and new engines were constantly being brought,

with clever shelters for the archers. A great erection covered with

bulls' hide was destroyed by a gallant attack from the walls, to the

surprise of the Turks, who thought the feat impossible. Mines and

countermines every day were discovered; every day the defenders were

becoming weaker.

On the 23rd an envoy from the Sultan was admitted to the city. Again,

and for the last time, Constantine was offered a sovereignty in the

Peloponnese, freedom for all who chose to depart, and security for the

persons and possessions of all who should choose to remain after the

surrender. Again he rejected the offer. No doubt he thought that it

was impossible to trust it; nor could the Roman Emperor endure to

yield the city that had been but once captured in its age-long

history. "We are prepared to die." The last hope failed just after

the last bold defiance was returned: the ship sent out returned, to

say that nowhere had it found the vessels of the relieving force.

The people began to see portents in the sky, when the great bonfires

in the Turkish camp were reflected on the great dome of S. Sophia. The

Emperor stood on the walls watching the enemy keeping festival, it

seemed, with sounds of music, and shrill cries and the beating of

drums. As he watched, says one who saw him, the tears coursed down his

cheeks. He knew what must come, but he was ready to fight to the last.

Again he was urged to fly, the Patriarch declaring that the city now

must fall. Again, and for the last time he refused. "How many

Emperors, great and glorious, before me have suffered and died for

their country? Shall I be the one to fly? No, I will die with you!"

The ladies of the imperial household, the sister-in-law of the Emperor

and her attendants, were sent away in a ship of Giustiniani's; and

everything was prepared for the worst. By gigantic efforts the walls

were repaired, and so well was the work done that even the Sultan was

for a moment half dismayed.

Already there were many in the Turkish camp who thought the enterprise

too hazardous to continue. It was known that a Venetian fleet was on

the way, and that a league was being formed by the Pope. After long

debate it was decided to make one last assault, and, if that failed,

to raise the siege. On the night of the 28th, Mohammed visited all the

posts, and promised to his soldiers all the pillage of the city,

encouraging them by every hope for this world and the next. In the

city priests bearing the sacred icons went through the streets. It was

for the last time. For the last time Constantine called his officers

together and spoke to them in brave words which burnt themselves into

the memory of the faithful Phrantzes.

"Brothers and fellow-soldiers, be ready for the morn. If God gives us

grace and valour, and the Holy Trinity help us, in Whom alone we

trust, we will do such deeds that the foe shall fall back with shame

before our arms." Then, says the chronicler, the wretched Romans

strengthened their hearts like lions, sought and gave pardon, and with

tears embraced each other as though mindful no more of wife or

children or earthly goods, but only of death, which, for the safety of

their country, they were glad to undergo. Constantine for the last

time went to the great church, and there, before all the bishops,

asked the pardon of all whom he had wronged. Then he received his last

communion. For the last time the Holy Sacrifice was offered in S.

Sophia, and then the last of the Cæsars and his nobles went forth to

die.

Before cock-crow he was again at his post; and with the first streak

of dawn the Turkish troops poured forth to the attack. Again and again

they were forced back, and again forced forward by the troops behind

them. The moat had been filled with earth and stones; but a great

palisade of stones covered with hides had been set up below the inner

wall. The Janissaries at length rushed up to the breach, but even they

were driven back. The critical moment came when a wound compelled

Giustiniani to retire, and a few minutes after the Turks discovered a

gate in the outer wall that had been newly opened, near to the gate of

Charisius, and below the palace of the Porphyrogenitus, found it

unprotected, and entering through it turned upon the defenders from

within. Already the Genoese had left their posts when their leader

withdrew. The Janissaries again advanced; they stormed the barricade,

and at the moment when some discovered the Kerko-porta,[31] others

forced their way through the gate of Charisius, and others through the

great breach near where the great Cæsar had stood. When the city was

entered he was in the street calling his men around him. He rode

forward, cutting his way through the foe, with some of the bravest of

his nobles round him. At length he fell, near the gate of S. Romanus,

by an unknown hand, and the conquering Turks swept over his body.

The age-long fight which the Imperial East had waged against barbarism

was over. The city of the Cæsars and the Church was in the hands of

the infidel. The land where the scholarship of the ancient world and

the law of the pioneers of equal justice had been preserved unbroken,

was now trodden under foot of those whose life was formed on quite

other models. Europe had stood by for centuries and watched the

gallant battle waged by the Christians who manned the bulwarks of her

civilisation. She had now to learn what was meant by the substitution

of the Koran for the Bible, of Mohammed for Christ.

Within a few hours of the capture of the gate of S. Romanus the whole

city was overrun by the victorious troops. At first they slew all whom

they saw, but when it was plain that all opposition was over they

began to make captives, tying them together with ropes and dragging

them on as they advanced further into the city. In the last hours of

the siege thousands had gathered in the great church of S. Sophia.

There many still thought that they must find safety. God, they

fancied, could not allow the infidel to desecrate the fairest church

in all the world. An angel, it had been prophesied, would descend at

the last moment and strike the enemies of Christ to the dust.

The great doors were shut, and the hushed thousands stood in prayer.

The cries of the victors came nearer and nearer, and at last the doors

of the narthex were beaten in and the savage soldiery rushed in,

slaying at first, then seizing captives, tearing down every Christian

symbol, and shattering with their axes the magnificent iconostasis,

before which, twelve hours before, Constantine and his gallant men had

bent in reverent devotion.[32]

At noon Mohammed himself entered the city by the gate of S. Romanus.

He rode straight down the wide street which leads to S. Sophia,

followed by the greatest of his officers and the holy men of the

Mussulman faith. At the great door he dismounted, and taking earth

from the ground he poured it on his head, as mindful of the end of all

earthly conquests. Then he entered, and when he saw that wonderful

sight which still strikes dumb with awe the greatest and the meanest

of mankind, he stayed. Then, after some minutes' silence, he passed up

to the altar. As he went he saw a soldier wantonly breaking up the

beautiful pavement with his axe, and sternly forbade him, with a blow.

As the priests stood before him he assured them of his protection, and

he bade those Christians who still stood unfettered in the church to

go to their homes in peace.

Then the Sultan ordered one of the Ulemas to mount the pulpit and read

forth to the conquerors from the Koran, and he himself mounted upon

the marble altar and prayed. Two legends have grown up round these

first moments of the Mussulman triumph in the great church. It is said

that as the first infidel entered a priest was celebrating the

Eucharist, and that he passed into the wall, which mysteriously opened

for him and closed when he had passed, bearing the Body and Blood of

the Lord. He will return, they say, when the Christians again have S.

Sophia for their own. The other legend points to a pillar at the

south-east where a mark like a blood-stained hand stands out on the

white marble. There it declared, Mohammed riding his horse over heaps

of dead, made an impress of blood and victory, and ordered the

slaughter to be stayed.

As the day went on it became known that some of the most notable of

the defenders had escaped. Tedardi the Florentine, whose record of the

siege is one of the most valuable we possess, when at last he saw that

the fight was hopeless, fled to the harbour and with many others swam

out to the Venetian ships some of which put out to sea and escaped.

Giustiniani's wound had proved mortal. Cardinal Isidore, in disguise,

was taken captive, but a Genoese of Galata bought his freedom. Many

escaped to Galata. Some paid large ransoms: some were slaughtered,

whether Latins or Greeks, in spite of the money they gave. Most of the

Greeks were made captive. The duke Notaras and his family were at

first spared, but when Mohammed demanded that the duke's son, a boy of

fourteen, should be sent to him in the palace, he refused, and he and

all his sons were put to death.

The usual fate of the Greek nobles however was that the fathers were

slain, the boys taken to the barracks of the Janissaries, and the

women and girls to the harems of the sultan and his chief favourites.

Some forty thousand Greeks perished during the siege, fifty thousand

it is supposed became captives, ten thousand, it is possible, some

few rich, most the very poor, retained their freedom if not their

homes.[33]

The body of Constantine, recognised by the purple buskins, was found

in a heap of dead. His head was cut off and borne to the Sultan. It

was exposed on a column in front of the palace. The body was buried

with respect, and over its grave, not far from where the mosque of

Suleiman now stands, a lamp has always been kept burning, but the

Ottoman government has sternly repressed the attempt of the faithful

Greeks to turn it into a place of pilgrimage and prayer.

So ended the Roman empire of the East. Its fall was an undying

disgrace to Christendom, which stood by and would not help. But it

fell chiefly through its own weakness. Military power and religion had

been the strength of the Empire; corruption had eaten away the first,

and the luxury and vice of the imperial court had shown that the

Christian faith had failed to hold its own. In the hour of their

despair the Emperors turned again to Christ, but it was too late to

save the Empire which their defiance of His laws had brought to

desolation. The Church of Constantinople must pass through the fires

of persecution, and recover in its isolation, if it might be, the

strength of the first days.

When Mohammed passed from the great church, he rode along the

Hippodrome, and when he came to the serpent column from Delphi he

struck off one of the three heads. He had done, he might have said,

with the old world. It was the day of the new peoples: a day which

began with the destruction of the old. As he walked through the

deserted halls of the great palace he repeated the words of Firdusi:

Now the spider draws the curtain in the Cæsar's palace hall,

And the owl is made the sentinel on Afrasiab's tower of watch.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This was close to where is now the Kutchuk Aya Sofia (church of S.

Sergius and S. Bacchus).

[2] Van Millingen, "Walls of Constantinople," p. 41.

[3] Themistius, _Oratio_ xviii., quoted by Van Millingen, p. 42.

[4] Van Millingen, pp. 44, 45.

[5] Van Millingen, p. 46.

[6] The very interesting little book of M. Antonin Debidour,

_L'Impératrice Théodora_ (1885), should be read by all who are

attracted by the wonderful career of this extraordinary Empress.

[7] _Church of the Sixth Century_, pp. 259, 260.

[8] _Byzant. Zeitschrift_, i. 69.

[9] See Curtis, _Broken Bits of Byzantium_, ii. 54, 56.

[10] _Later Roman Empire_, ii. 352.

[11] Vol. ii., p. 423.

[12] _The Church and the Eastern Empire_, pp. 106-108.

[13] Vol. ii., p. 446.

[14] Vol. ii., pp. 497-498.

[15] Van Millingen, p. 168.

[16] _History of Greece_, vol. ii., p. 191.

[17] Gibbon, vol. v., pp. 525, appendix II., a most important and

thorough investigation of a very interesting period of legal history.

[18] On Nicephorus Phocas see the brilliant book of M. Schlumberger,

"Un Empereur Byzantin au Xième Siècle."

[19] In modern times the greeting of a bishop at his entrance by a

special anthem is still retained in the Greek Church; as also the

greeting of cardinals when they enter S. Peter's--"Ecce sacerdos" etc.

[20] The first part of the reign of these sovereigns, and the reign of

John Tzimisces, are described with abundance of illustrative detail in

M. Schlumberger's charming book, "L'Epopée byzantine à la fin du

dixième siècle."

[21] "History of Greece," vol. iii., p. 4.

[22] This was the suburb named after the church of SS. Cosmas and

Damian. The monastery was fortified, and stood on the top of the hill

overlooking the Golden Horn. It was granted by Alexius to Bohemond.

[23] His reign was really only a little over twenty-four years and a

half.

[24] Van Millingen, _Walls of Constantinople_, p. 157.

[25] Pean, _Conquest of Constantinople_, p. 403.

[26] There are many different estimates given by the different

writers. La Jonquière, perhaps the latest, decides on 200,000 (p.

158).

[27] M. Mijatovich in his "Constantine the last Emperor of the

Greeks," gives a vivid account of the siege, but he is far from

accurate in dealing with the topography.

[28] Mr Oman, _History of the Art of War, Middle Ages_, pp. 526-7,

speaks of three walls; but the scarp was quite low, and there were

only two walls behind it.

[29] There is much dispute as to the route taken by the ships and as

to almost every point connected with the passage. I would only say

that it seems to me that the view of Professor Van Millingen, which I

have followed in the text, is the most satisfactory.

[30] Quoted by M. Chedomil Mijatovich, from a Slavonic MS.

[31] See Van Millingen, pp. 89 and 99.

[32] The icons were hewn down, the ornaments everywhere torn off, the

altar stripped of its coverings, the lamps and sacred vessels stolen;

everything, says Ducas, of silver and gold or other precious substance

was taken away, and the church was left naked and desolate.

[33] These are Finlay's figures.