The Story of the Fall of Constantinople
_Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
Of that which once was great has passed away._
WORDSWORTH: _On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic._
No story of the Crusades can be complete without some account of the
last scene in the drama that had been played for so many years between
East and West, and which was ended for the time when Constantinople
fell.
Since the year 1261, the Eastern Empire had passed out of the hands of
Latin rulers, and once more owned an Emperor of Greek origin, Michael
Palæologus by name. But this fact brought it no accession of vigour or
strength. Worn out and impoverished, and lacking a great ruler who
would have held the scattered threads of Empire in a firm grasp, the
power of Constantinople was bound to lie at the mercy of a determined
foe.
She had been already threatened, about the middle of the thirteenth
century, by the dreaded Moguls, and only escaped because the latter
first turned their attention to Russia. But the way to her final
destruction was laid open by Michael the Emperor himself.
The borders of the Greek Empire in Asia had been guarded for many years
past by the natives of Bithynia, the border state, who held their lands
on condition {266} that they kept the castles of the frontier in a
state of defence.
Their task was no easy one, for the Seljukian Turks, who ruled over the
neighbouring district of Iconium, were always on the watch to enlarge
their boundaries; but these border militia were very faithful to their
task, and had kept the invaders at bay.
Now Michael, formerly the Regent, had won the imperial throne by foul
treachery towards the child Emperor, John Ducas, whose eyes he put out
and whom he left to languish for thirty years in a wretched dungeon.
Uneasy lies the usurper's head, and Michael could not rest until he had
disarmed or got rid of all those who were suspected of loyalty towards
the throne of Ducas.
Among these latter were the native "militia men" of Bithynia, whom
Michael now proceeded to disband. The force substituted to defend the
borderland was quite inadequate for the task; and the weakest spot on
the frontier was thus left practically unguarded.
A few years earlier, a certain Othman, a Turk, had become the vassal of
the Seljukian Sultan, and had been granted a district of the Phrygian
highlands, on the very borders of the Greek Empire, on condition that
he would take up arms against the Greeks.
Not many years passed before Othman, through the death of the last
Sultan of the Seljuk line, had stepped into his place as an independent
prince and the future founder of the Ottoman Empire. He outlived
Michael Palæologus and his successor, and managed before his death to
push the frontiers of the Turkish Empire forward to the Sea of Marmora.
His son Orkhan completed the conquest of Bithynia--a {267}
comparatively easy task now that the mistaken policy of the Greek
Emperors had turned the troops of "hardy mountaineers into a trembling
crowd of peasants without spirit or discipline."
By the year 1333, nothing remained of the Greek Empire in Asia but the
town of Chalcedon and the strip of land that faced Constantinople
across the straits.
The rule of the Ottoman Turks over their newly-conquered territory was
firm and just enough, and was strengthened by material drawn from the
ranks of the vanquished inhabitants. One of their demands was that a
yearly tribute of young boys should be paid to them by the Christians.
At first a terrible rumour spread that these children were killed and
eaten by the infidels. But what really happened was that these boys
were trained very carefully as soldiers, and became the "Janissaries,"
or "New Soldiers" of the Ottoman army, against whom nothing could
stand. They were forced, of course, to become followers of Islam, and
they were appointed to all the highest offices of state. But their
chief energy was reserved for the attacks made upon the land of their
origin.
Gradually the Ottoman Turks crept nearer and nearer the heart of the
Eastern Empire. A certain crafty Prime Minister of Constantinople,
John Cantacugenus, in his determination to supplant his young
sovereign, a child of nine, actually called in their aid and allowed
them to over-run Thrace.
By the time that the usurper had won his way as joint ruler with his
master, to the imperial throne, all that remained of the coveted empire
was Constantinople, the towns of Adrianople and Thessalonica, and the
{268} Byzantine province in the Peloponnesus. His fatal alliance with
the Turks had been cemented by a marriage between the Sultan Orkhan and
his daughter Theodora; and when John Palæologus, the rightful
sovereign, refused to submit to this arrangement of twin rulers,
Cantacugenus at once called in his son-in-law to his help.
Once more the Ottomans swarmed into Thrace, and, though they found that
Cantacugenus had been deposed and forced to become a monk, they were
not disposed to retreat without some substantial indemnity. They
seized upon and settled in a province of Thrace, and within two years
had the whole district, together with the city of Adrianople, in their
hands.
The next step was to the threshold of Constantinople itself, but for
this the Turkish chieftain Murad was content to wait awhile. The
capital was bound to fall in time, and he was first of all eager to
make sure of his ground in Asia Minor.
During Murad's reign he extended his domain to the Balkans and up to
the very walls of the imperial city; whilst the unhappy Emperor without
an empire was thankful to escape for the present by acknowledging his
supremacy, and even by taking up arms at his command against one of his
own free towns.
For the next hundred and fifty years the Ottomans were only hindered
from the invasion of Christendom by the determined action of the
Servians and Hungarians. And meantime the chance of freeing the Greek
Empire altogether from Ottoman rule had come and gone.
In 1402, when the Turkish Sultan Bajazet was pressing hard upon
Constantinople, the great Tamerlane, chief {269} of the Tartar hordes,
who had already conquered Persia, Turkestan, Russia, and India, came
down like a thunderbolt upon the ambitious plans of Bajazet. The
latter defied the conqueror, saying, "Thy armies are innumerable? Be
they so! But what are the arrows of the flying Tartar against the
scimitars and battle-axes of my firm and invincible Janissaries?"
Alike in their religious faith and in their ambitions, these two men
now became deadly rivals; but not even the "New Army" of the Ottoman
could stand against the Tartar hordes.
One city after another fell and was sacked; Bajazet himself was taken,
and imprisoned, according to one story, in an iron cage. Another and
more modern version says that the great Tamerlane treated his captive
with the utmost courtesy and consideration; and on the occasion of the
victorious feast after the battle, placed a crown upon his head and a
sceptre in his hand, promising that he should return to the throne of
his fathers with greater glory than before. But Bajazet died before
his generous conqueror could carry out his promises, and Tamerlane,
taking his place, demanded tribute of his sons and of Manuel of
Constantinople at the same time.
The two elder sons of Bajazet were now at variance over the poor
remains of his empire. One of these bought the aid of Manuel by
surrendering the coast of Thessaly and the seaports of the Black Sea,
and the Emperor was able to keep these just so long as the war between
the brothers continued to rage. Even after this had ended in the
triumph over both of Mohammed, Bajazet's youngest son, Manuel could
feel fairly safe, for of late years he had thrown in his {270} lot with
Mohammed and was allowed to hold his possessions in peace.
This period of civil war, was of course, the opportunity for the Greek
ruler to have driven out the Ottomans from his former empire. But this
opportunity was lost as so many others had been, and after Mohammed
died in 1421, the empire was entirely surrendered to the Ottomans.
Mohammed's successor, Amurath, is thus described by one of his own
historians. "He was a just and valiant prince, of a great soul,
patient of labours, learned, merciful, religious, charitable; a lover
and encourager of the studious, and of all who excelled in any art or
science; a good Emperor and a great general.
"No man obtained more or greater victories than Amurath. Under his
reign the soldier was ever victorious, the citizen rich and secure. If
he subdued any country, his first care was to build mosques and
caravanserais, hospitals and colleges. Every year he gave a thousand
pieces of gold to the sons of the Prophet, and sent two thousands five
hundred to the religious persons of Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem."
Like the Emperor Charles V, a century later, this "perfect prince" laid
down the reins of empire at the very height of his glory and "retired
to the society of saints and hermits," at Magnesia. Twice he was
recalled to the field of action, first by an invasion of the
Hungarians, the second time by the insurrection of the "haughty
Janissaries "; and with these latter, now humbled and trembling at his
very look, the great Amurath remained until his death.
Meantime the doomed city of Constantinople had been further weakened by
internal strife. Hoping to get aid {271} from the Pope, John
Palæologus, the Emperor, had publicly conformed to the Roman Church,
with many of his followers. But the bulk of the inhabitants of
Constantinople utterly refused to throw over the ancient faith of the
Greek Church, and preferred to disown their Emperor. As one of them
ominously muttered: "Better the turban of the Turk in Constantinople
than the Pope's tiara."
Disappointed of his hopes of any practical aid from Rome, John worked
on in terrified silence while the brave King of Poland and Hungary
tried in vain to drive back the triumphant Turks. He died only three
years before the dreaded Amurath, and was succeeded by his brother
Constantine, bearer of the honoured name of the founder of the city,
but destined to be the last Christian ruler of the Eastern Empire.
Before very long, Constantine found himself face to face with the young
Mohammed, the son of Amurath, who was already surnamed the Conqueror.
The all-absorbing desire of Mohammed was the possession of
Constantinople, in order that it might be made the capital of his own
Empire. Some pretence therefore must be found for a rupture with his
meek vassal Constantine. At that time there dwelt within the city a
certain Ottoman prince named Orkhan, much given to plots and ambitions,
on whose account the Emperor was paid a considerable sum by Mohammed,
on condition that he was kept from doing any harm. Very unwisely
Constantine sent envoys to press for a larger payment, and even went so
far as to try to blackmail the Sultan by hinting that Orkhan had the
better right to the throne.
The reply of Mohammed was a prompt order to his {272} engineers to
construct a series of forts between Constantinople and the Black Sea,
and thus to begin the siege by isolating the city from her port and
food supplies. The actual excuse for warfare was provided in an attack
made by some Greek soldiers on the Turks who were pulling down a
beautiful old church in order to use its stones for their fort. The
Greeks were promptly cut to pieces, and when Constantine dared to
remonstrate, Mohammed at once declared war.
In vain did the despairing Emperor seek for help from the West. Even
Genoa and Venice were blind to the approaching loss of all their
Eastern trade, and Rome could do little to help. When the Emperor made
a strong appeal to his own subjects to rally to the protection of their
city, they listened in sullen silence to the words of one who had
renounced the faith of his ancestors and conformed to the Church of
Rome. There was never the smallest chance of holding out against the
vigorous young Sultan and his picked troops.
In the spring of 1453 the actual siege began. Mohammed made use of
that gunpowder which was to revolutionise all the ancient modes of
warfare, and the old walls of Constantinople shuddered and fell before
the shock.
The besieged had their guns too, but they did more harm than good, for
the walls were too narrow to hold them and were so shaken by the
concussion that these weapons had to be abandoned.
Yet for a time, owing largely to the courage and spirit of Constantine,
the city not only held out, but succeeded in sending five vessels into
the midst of the Turkish fleet, sinking and otherwise destroying all
with which {273} they came into contact. For allowing this to happen,
the Turkish admiral, in spite of his plea of an injured eye as the
cause of the mishap, was sentenced to receive a hundred strokes from a
golden rod in the presence of the angry Sultan.
But this victory was quickly counterbalanced by Mohammed, who had some
of his vessels brought overland across the neck that lies between the
Bosphorus and the Golden Horn, thus shutting out the city from the sea
on both sides. After a siege of forty days the end came on May 29,
1453. A special effort was urged by the Sultan in these words: "The
city and the buildings are mine, but I resign to you the captives and
the spoil, the treasures of gold and beauty; be rich and happy. Many
are the provinces of my Empire; the intrepid soldier who first ascends
the walls of Constantinople shall be rewarded with the government of
the fairest and most wealthy; and my gratitude shall accumulate his
honours and fortunes above the measure of his own hopes."
The answer came loud and strong from every part of the camp.
"Allah is great! There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is His
Prophet."
Within the city all was in gloom and despair. The Emperor was blamed
for not surrendering earlier; many said that the "repose and security
of Turkish servitude" were far preferable to this last stand for
freedom.
The unfortunate Constantine listened in silence, and then went to the
Cathedral of St Sophia, where he partook of his last Sacrament. Rising
from a brief and troubled rest at dawn, he mounted his horse to ride
back to the {274} breach in the falling walls. His few faithful
friends and attendants pressed round the master who they knew was going
to his death. Looking gravely down upon them, "he prayed one and all
to pardon him for any offence that he might knowingly or unknowingly
have committed against any man."
The crowd answered with cries and lamentations as he rode calmly to his
fate. "The distress and fall of the last Constantine," says Gibbon,
"are more glorious than the long prosperity of the Byzantine Cæsars."
Standing in the gap made in the wall by the Gate of St Romanus, the
Emperor and his little band awaited the rush of the Janissaries. One
by one his men fell behind him and at his side, until he alone remained.
One more attack was made, and this time the infidels swarmed right into
the town, trampling the body of the Emperor underfoot. All that long
and dreadful day the wail of the captives ascended to the heavens, and
when a search was made among the dead, only the golden eagles on his
shoes identified the crushed and disfigured form of him who once was
Constantine, last of his race.
The last scene in the grim drama was played when the Sultan came to the
Church of St Sophia, and, riding upon his magnificent war-horse, passed
in through the eastern door and bade the Mullah pronounce the formula
of the faith of Islam from the high pulpit.
"Allah is great! There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is His
Prophet!"
The words resounded through the aisles of the great eastern church, as
they had echoed first in the desert of Arabia nearly nine hundred years
before that day.
Through well-nigh nine centuries we have traced the growth of Islam,
and the part played by the Holy War {275} in hindering its progress to
the West; and, having recorded this last and successful attempt of the
Mohammedans at establishing themselves in Europe, we will bring our
story to an end with one last glance at the effect of this great
movement upon Christendom.
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