The taking of Tyre was largely due to the personal courage and firmness of the Doge Domenico Michiel. Under apparently hopeless conditions, and when his troops were thoroughly discouraged, without money to pay their wages or supplies to feed them, he succeeded in maintaining his influence over them, and ultimately led them to victory. One of the most extraordinary devices to which he had recourse in the absence of coin was the creation of a leather currency. He actually had vast quantities of leather cut into tokens and stamped with a sign that promised redemption if they were presented to the treasury in Venice when the expedition reached home; and these tokens circulated as notes do nowadays, and were ultimately redeemed in gold. It is to this circumstance that the arms of the Michiel family make allusion, displaying one-and-twenty pieces of money upon alternate bends, azure and argent.

The influence which the Venetians acquired in Constantinople during the first half of the twelfth century showed itself in the construction of churches and convents in the city itself, and in the establishment of great commercial storehouses and markets, where they used their own Venetian weights, measures, and money, as if they were in Venice itself. Their wares paid no duty

on entering the Greek Empire; they required the Greeks to speak of the Doge under the title of Protospartos, or august prince, and the patriarch of Venice was designated as ‘Hypertimos,’ and derived considerable fees from the Eastern capital, while the basilica of Saint Mark enjoyed a tribute from the Byzantine Empire. In fact, during a certain length of time, the importance of the Republic was almost as great in Constantinople as in Venice itself, and

was a source of considerable anxiety to the emperors. They did their best to oppose the growing power of the Venetians, but the assistance of the latter was absolutely necessary to them in order

to repulse the attacks of the Normans of Sicily, who even succeeded in penetrating into the suburbs of Constantinople; and for some time the Greeks were obliged to bear with the official pretensions of the Republic, as well as with the insults and humiliations suffered by the Greek soldiers at the hands of their foreign allies.

Under the reign of the Emperor Manuel, however, the affairs of the Republic in the East suffered a severe check. During an expedition, of which the real object was nothing less than the conquest of Greece, an outbreak of the plague brought terror and confusion upon the Venetian fleet. The attacking force consisted largely of volunteers, who lost heart as the terrible sickness spread amongst

them. A mere remnant of what had seemed a brilliant army reached Venice with the remains of the fleet, and the arrival of these few spread mourning and desolation amongst the citizens. Outraged at the weakness and lack of wisdom displayed by the Doge during the expedition, the people united to wreak their vengeance upon him, and he was promptly assassinated. Amongst the many families whose youngest and bravest were victims of this fruitless expedition, none was more nearly exterminated than the Giustiniani. One hundred men of their name and race had sailed away to Greece; not one came back. The Venetians

felt that the city itself was bereaved by their loss. One man of marriageable age alone survived in Venice to stand between the name of Giustiniani and its extinction, and he was

a monk in the monastery of Saint Nicholas. Thither the people proceeded in a body, they claimed him from the order, they brought him

home to his ancestral palace, they besought the Pope to free him from his vows. Alexander III. readily acceded to a request so unanimous; at the same time, as if to provide him with a wife whose position should be somewhat similar to his own, the pontiff liberated also from her nunnery the daughter of the former Doge, Vital Michiel II. The former monk and the former nun were united in bonds of matrimony, and became the parents of no less than twelve children, nine of whom were sons. When the twelve were all grown up, Giustiniani founded in the island of Amiano a convent, to which his wife and their three daughters retired while he returned to his monastery of Saint Nicholas on the Lido.

The immediate result of the disastrous expedition to Greece seems to have been that Venice momentarily lost her hold upon the Levant, and was obliged to retire from the strong commercial position she had acquired in Constantinople; but an alliance with William, the king of Sicily and the son of Roger, soon turned the scale in favour of the Republic. The Emperor Manuel Comnenos, terrified at the thought of a coalition between Sicily and Venice, paid the latter a large sum of money by way of indemnity.

Such, on the whole, were the principal events in the foreign history of Venice, which were more or less connected with the First Crusade and its consequences. But it must not be supposed that while Venice was doing everything in her power to extend her commerce and influence in eastern Europe and in Asia, she was neglecting to improve her opportunities in Italy. As early as 1101 the Venetians had installed themselves as masters in the city of Ferrara, which they had helped the great Countess Matilda to recover from her imperial enemy. At the same time the Republic required all its prodigious energy to maintain its hold upon Dalmatia, the possession of which was contested by the king of Hungary. One of the numerous expeditions to the Dalmatian coasts cost the life of the Doge Ordelafo Falier; this was in 1116, and fifty years elapsed before the Republic recovered possession of all the fortresses on that coast. Stephen III. of Hungary now thought only of winning the good graces of his country’s former rivals, and married two princesses of his family, the

one to Niccolò, a son of the Doge Michiel, who had been created Count of the island of Arbo in Dalmatia, and the other to the Count of Ossero. Venice had become a European power, and foreign sovereigns sought alliance with her by marriage.

Much interest attaches to the relations between the Doges, the Emperors, and the Popes in the twelfth century, more especially as the long quarrel ended in the institution of the memorable feast of the Ascension, which was kept in Venice to the very last year of the Republic.

The Emperor Conrad died in the year 1152, leaving an only son who was a mere boy. The electors of the Empire, judging that the times required a strong hand and a sovereign who should not be under the control of any regency, elected the late Emperor’s nephew, Frederick of Hohenstaufen, surnamed Barbarossa. Brave, ambitious, and energetic, Frederick’s object from the first was to bring all Italy under the direct rule of the Empire. By a piece of good fortune which rarely befell any of the Emperors, he found himself supported by the Pope, who, according to the amiable traditions of those times, should have been his natural enemy. Nicholas Brakespeare, the Englishman who reigned under the name of Pope Hadrian IV., was at that time in considerable anxiety owing to the progress made in Rome by the revolutionary teachings of Arnold of Brescia, and viewed with satisfaction the Emperor’s intention of descending into Italy at the head of an imposing army. For such an expedition a pretext was soon found. Frederick convoked a general diet of the Empire at Roncaglia, not far from Piacenza, which had generally been the official residence of his predecessors when they visited the peninsula.

The Venetian Republic does not appear to have been at all alarmed by what was known of the Emperor’s intentions, and sent three patricians to represent her at the diet. The Emperor was indeed chiefly opposed by the Lombards, who entirely refused to acknowledge the claims he now made, and he was accordingly obliged more than once to resort to arms to enforce them, even after his coronation in Rome.

A dangerous epidemic which broke out in Italy obliged him to return to Germany for a short time, but he soon came back and convoked a second diet at Roncaglia, the prime object of which was to define exactly what the situation of the Italian states ought to be with regard to the Empire. The diet fully supported the Emperor in the claims he made upon Lombardy, and that province, having been placed under the ban of the Imperial Diet, broke out in open revolt. In the war which followed immediately a number of the Lombard cities were besieged, including Milan and Crema. When the latter place was starved to a surrender, and was obliged to open its gates to the Germans, it is recorded that the whole population emigrated in a body, preferring exile to submission.

At this time Hadrian IV., Frederick’s friend and ally, died, and the conclave elected as his successor Cardinal Bandinelli, who assumed the name of Alexander III., and became one of the Emperor’s bitterest enemies. Even before his election this Pope had been well known for his strong Guelph sympathies, and his election was a source of profound displeasure to the Emperor. The latter could not easily accomplish his purpose in Italy during the reign of a Pope whose patriotic object it was to liberate his country from all foreign influence. Following the astonishing custom which prevailed in those times, Barbarossa immediately proclaimed a Pope of his own, known to us as the Antipope Victor IV., who united the suffrages and enjoyed the support of that very numerous party which desired to see the Germanic influence of the Empire prevalent south of the Alps.

There was therefore throughout Italy a condition of schism in which the Pope and the patriotic party were opposed to the Antipope and the Imperialists. The Venetians with their patriarch did not hesitate to espouse the cause of Alexander III. At that time the patriarch was still the Bishop of Grado, and as it chanced that he was at odds with the Archbishop of Aquileia about certain questions connected with the Dalmatian bishoprics since that province had passed into the hands of the Venetians, Aquileia very naturally joined the Imperial standard, and proceeded to sack the diocese of the rival bishop. The Doge interfered in person, and with the help of a few faithful troops succeeded in capturing the hot-headed Bishop of Aquileia, a dozen of his canons, and a number of Friulese country gentlemen who had joined the quarrel in the hope of plunder. These prisoners were all brought to Venice, but were set at liberty when the bishop and his canons had signed a treaty or perpetual agreement, whereby they bound themselves and their successors for ever to pay a yearly tribute consisting of twelve loaves of white bread and twelve fat pigs. The Republic judged that the memory of this victory of the rightful Pope’s party over his adversaries should be preserved, and as a means of doing so decreed that the aforesaid fattened swine should be handed over to the populace on the Thursday before Lent, to be hunted to death in the piazza of Saint Mark. This carnival diversion was so highly appreciated by the people that when in the year 1420 the Pope abolished the two patriarchates of Grado and Aquileia, and created instead the patriarchate of Venice, the government was obliged to provide the pigs at its own expense.

It is only fair to say here that the patriarch of Aquileia made act of submission to Pope Alexander III. himself.

Meanwhile, in the year 1162, that Pope was forced to take refuge in France to escape from the dangers that beset him in Rome; and the bishops and cardinals who were faithful to him, and who now found themselves fugitives, received a hospitable welcome with promises of protection in Venice. It was but natural that this should irritate the Emperor, and foreseeing that there was to be trouble the Republic hastened to conclude alliances with the Greek Emperor and the king of Naples, whose interest it was to check the growth of German influence in Italy.

On his side Barbarossa assured himself of the support of Genoa, and returned to Germany to raise fresh troops, while Alexander III. took advantage of his enemy’s absence to come back to Rome. It was in the midst of these party struggles that the Lombard League first took shape and began to grow; in 1167 a congress was held at which were present deputies from the cities of Venice, Verona, Vicenza, Padua, Treviso, Ferrara, Brescia, Bergamo, Mantua, Cremona, Milan, Lodi, Parma, Modena, Bologna, Novara, Vercelli, Reggio, Asti and Tortona. The representatives of these powerful towns met together and swore a solemn oath in a great fortress which they had built for the common defence, and around which a city had already sprung up. The city and fortress were named Alessandria, in honour of Pope Alexander III., who was the soul of the patriotic Italian ‘Concordia.’ It is worth noting that the city of Piacenza, which up to this time had been considered the central focus of Germanic influence in Italy, sent representatives to the congress of Alessandria, and afterwards took an active part in the alliance which was formed there.

The Emperor spared no effort to obtain possession of the stronghold of the League; but while the garrison opposed the most determined resistance from within, the cities of the League harassed the Germans from without, and forced them to raise the siege within four months. Not very much later, though too late, the Imperial army received considerable reinforcements; but during

that time the army of the League had been able to make every preparation for a decisive battle. The armies met at Legnano on May 19, 1176, and the encounter resulted in a disastrous defeat for Frederick. He himself was thrown from his horse, the

great standard of the Empire was captured, and the Imperialists were driven to ignominious flight. The Venetians had no troops in this battle, which was fought at a considerable distance from their territory, but they had contributed large sums of money as well as munitions of war to the cause.

During the six years which had preceded this decisive battle, Alexander III. had led a life of hardship and danger. Beset and pursued by his enemies, he wandered and sometimes fled from Benevento to Veroli, and thence to Anagni, feeling himself safer anywhere than in Rome, where party feeling ran high and took the side of Frederick. But the latter’s signal defeat at Legnano convinced Barbarossa at last that his true interest lay in making peace with the sovereign pontiff, in spite of the great difficulty which must attend any negotiations towards such an end; for Frederick dreamt of nothing less than reconciling himself with Alexander III. without abandoning the Antipope whom he had set up in opposition. The first point agreed upon was that a meeting should take place in some city of northern Italy, and that the Pope should attend it in person.

As a preliminary step the Pope proceeded to Venice, being conveyed thither by the galleys of the king of Sicily, and visiting on his way the principal cities of Dalmatia. He was received in Venice with the most profound respect and with demonstrations of the greatest joy by the Doge, the clergy, and the people. During his stay in the city there was a constant exchange of messages between him and the Emperor regarding the city to be chosen for a congress to discuss the peace. Then the Pope himself was obliged to travel to Ferrara, a town which the cities of the League would have preferred, though it was too small to lodge the great

number of persons who would have to be present. The Pope returned to Venice after discussing the question with the envoys of Milan, and called together the ambassadors of the Empire, the legates of Sicily, and the principal Lombard chiefs. All these personages presented themselves in answer to the pontifical summons, and proceeded to discuss the situation at great length. The result of the congress was that the Emperor agreed to recognise the legitimate election of Alexander III., to renounce his own Antipope, to sign a truce of six years with the Lombard League, and of fifteen years with the king of Sicily.

These preliminaries having been properly and minutely established, the Emperor was invited to meet the Pope in Venice. It was his Canossa. He arrived in Chioggia in 1177, and was met at the entrance of the lagoons by a deputation of bishops, who exhorted him to abjure his schism before entering upon Venetian territory. Barbarossa complied with good grace and was forthwith freed from the ban of excommunication. On the following day he proceeded to the capital. The Doge, the patriarch of Grado, and all the bishops of the Venetian state went out to meet him in their barges. The whole company landed at the Piazzetta amidst the acclamations of the crowd, and the Emperor was at once conducted to the Basilica. Here the Pope, in full pontificals, awaited him under the porch, surrounded by his cardinals and numerous representatives of the Venetian clergy. When he saw before him the august pontiff whom he had so long and so cruelly persecuted, the

Emperor seems to have felt a sudden impulse of penitence, for he threw himself upon his knees and bowed down to kiss the Pope’s feet; but Alexander would not allow him to go so far, and raising him to his feet bestowed upon him the kiss of peace. Side by side the temporal and the spiritual sovereigns of the world went up the ancient aisle together to the steps of the high altar, and with the clergy and people intoned the ‘Te Deum Laudamus.’

On the first of August of that year the truce with the Lombard League was signed, and at the same time the Venetians obtained for themselves certain especial promises from the Emperor, one of which was that no imperial ships should navigate the waters of the Adriatic Gulf, which Venice now looked upon as her exclusive property, without the consent of the Republic. On his side the Pope accorded numerous privileges to the city which had given him such abundant proof of its fidelity.

A great part of the importance which was attached to the Doge’s annual visit to the Lido on Ascension Day had its origin in the fact that Alexander III. was present in Venice at that feast. It is true that the custom of the visit dated from the days of Pietro Orseolo II., but the ceremony of espousing the sea was first performed in 1177, when the Pope, on presenting the Doge Sebastian Ziani with a magnificent ring, accompanied the gift with the words: ‘Take this as a token of the sovereignty which you and your successors shall exercise over this sea for ever.’ In memory of this speech the Doge afterwards dropped a

golden wedding-ring into the sea every year with imposing ceremonies.

These are the simple facts upon which is founded

the amazing legend of Alexander’s arrival in Venice. Tracked and pursued, the story says, by his imperial enemies, the fugitive Pope reached Venice in disguise and at night. After wandering for hours through the dark and winding ways of the city, he sank down at last upon the steps of a church, worn out with fatigue and sleep, to wait for the day. At dawn he took up his staff again, and on seeing a building which was evidently a monastery, he knocked at the door and asked for shelter. The house was that of Santa Maria della Carità. He was admitted, and, according to at least one chronicler, was installed in the kitchen as a scullion. In this humble office he lived uncomplaining for six months, until a French traveller, who had often seen him in France, recognised him, and hastened to inform the Doge of his presence. The emotion created by the intelligence may easily be imagined. The ducal palace and the whole city were in a ferment of excitement, and a vast procession proceeded at once to fetch the sovereign pontiff from the convent kitchen and conduct him to the palace of the patriarch of Grado. Strong in the support of the Venetians, the Pope now sent ambassadors to Frederick requiring him to restore peace to Church and State. The Emperor, according to the story, sent an arrogant reply, and swore that he would plant his victorious standard before the very door of Saint Mark’s. The natural result of such a reply could only be a war, and the legend did not fail to invent one of the most dramatic nature. Sixty galleys from the Empire, from Genoa, and from Pisa, entered the Adriatic under the command of the young Otho, the Emperor’s son, a boy of eighteen years, endowed with superhuman strength, courage, and experience. Against this powerful fleet

the Venetians could only send a force of thirty ships. But right was on their side, and especially the right of legend to give the victory to its favourites. The Doge knelt before the Pope, the Pope blessed him, presented him with a golden sword and promised him the victory. On Ascension Day a great and bloody sea-fight

was fought off Salvore, not far from Parenzo, and the Venetians utterly discomfited their enemies, taking from them forty-eight galleys and a vast number of prisoners, including the Prince Otho himself. Like all legendary

people, these legendary Venetians were noble and generous beyond words, and at once sent the Prince back to his father with twelve ambassadors. Touched by so much kindness, the Emperor requested a safe-conduct for himself to visit Venice, and having arrived there he was kept waiting an unconscionable time while the terms of a treaty of peace were drawn up. When he was at last admitted to the presence of Alexander III. Frederick was made to lay aside all the insignia of royalty, and was forced to lie down flat upon his face while the Pope placed one foot upon the back of his neck and recited from Psalm xci. verse 13, ‘The young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample underfoot.’ Frederick answered, ‘I bow not before thee, but before Peter.’ ‘Both before Peter and before me,’ insisted the Pope.

The historian Romanin is justified in declaring that it would be hard to accumulate a greater number of absurdities in a single tale, and the most elementary historical criticism has sufficed to destroy all such fables.

They are, indeed, so manifestly imaginary that the so-called proofs of the dramatic events they describe have been allowed to remain untouched, and they exist to the present day. They consist of an inscription cut in marble, which recalls to the inhabitants of Salvore the victory of the Doge Sebastian Ziani, over the fleet of Otho of Hohenstaufen; of an inscription on the outside of the church of Sant’ Apollinare informing the public that Pope Alexander III. passed a bad night on the steps of that church; and of similar inscriptions upon the churches of Santa Sofia, San Salvatore, San Giacomo, and some other churches, which dispute with Sant’ Apollinare the honour of having offered the pontiff the hospitality of the doorstep.

VI

VENICE AND CONSTANTINOPLE

The most conflicting judgments have been formed upon the action of the Venetian Republic at the decisive moments of her career, as well as upon the true sources of her wealth and importance. One writer, for instance, gravely tells us that Venice, like England, grew rich by usury and the slave trade; another, whose good faith cannot be doubted, assures the world that the two great mistakes which led to the final downfall of the Republic were the ‘Serrata del Gran Consiglio,’ which excluded the people from the government, and the unjustifiable sack and seizure of Constantinople. It would be hard indeed to produce any satisfactory proof of the former statement; for though the Venetians undoubtedly supplied themselves and one part of Italy with white slaves from the East, and although the Republic at times lent money at interest to poorer governments in distress, yet I do not think that these sources of income were ever to be compared with that derived from a great and legitimate commerce, and from less justifiable but not less lucrative conquest.

As for the second statement, it is enough to consider the length of time which elapsed between the taking of Constantinople and the closure of the Great Council about a hundred years later, say in 1300, on the one hand, and the final destruction of Venetian independence in 1797 on the other. When, in history, an effect is separated from its supposed cause by an interval of five hundred years or more, I do not hesitate to assert that the connection is a little more than doubtful. As for the exclusion of the people from the government having been a source of danger to the Republic, it is interesting to note that almost in the same year the Republic of Florence adopted precisely the opposite course, that it led directly to internal discord and the wars of the Blacks and Whites, and that in less than two hundred years the city which had adopted the democratic view was under the dominion of tyrants—a striking instance of the truth of some of the most important conclusions reached by Plato in the Republic.

In the year 1198 Pope Innocent III. called upon Christendom to undertake a fourth crusade, and the voice of Fulk of Neuilly preached the delivery of the Holy Sepulchre, and roused to arms the most valiant barons and gentlemen of France.

It was not till 1201 that the new army of crusaders was sufficiently organised to consider the means of reaching Palestine, and they then decided that they must make the journey by sea. Accordingly they sent an embassy to Venice, the only maritime power then able to furnish the ships and transports required.

Enrico Dandolo, the Doge, entertained their request, and, speaking in the name of the Republic, offered to convey to Palestine four thousand five hundred horses and nine thousand squires and grooms on large transports, and to take four thousand five hundred knights and twenty thousand men-at-arms on other vessels, and to furnish provisions for men and horses for nine months; and, further, to send fifty armed galleys to convoy the transports to ‘the shores whither Christianity and the service of God called them.’

For this transportation the Republic required the payment of 85,000 marks of silver before the army embarked, and the promise of an equal division of all conquests and of all spoil, Venice to receive one-half of everything.

To these terms the ambassadors agreed, and they obtained from the Pope a solemn approval of the agreement, which the Republic fulfilled with great exactness, but which many of the crusaders violated in a manner far from honourable; for a large number, deeming that they could make the journey more cheaply on their own account, embarked from other European ports without any regard to the engagements made in their names by the ambassadors they themselves had chosen.

The consequence was that at the time agreed upon for meeting in Venice, the crusaders found their numbers much inferior to those provided for in the contract; and, as was natural, those who presented themselves were not able to produce the sum of money agreed upon for the whole number.

But, according to the agreement signed, if the whole sum was not paid before embarking, whatever was paid in was forfeited to the Republic, which had been put to great expense and trouble in fitting out so large a fleet.

In this extremity Enrico Dandolo pointed out to his countrymen that Venice should play a generous part, rather than exact the letter of the contract; that a compromise should be made on some sound basis; and that the most obvious way of settling the matter was to ask of the crusaders some service, during the voyage to Palestine, which should be accepted instead of the balance of the money still unpaid, amounting to no less than 30,000 marks of silver (about £60,000 sterling). To this proposal the crusaders agreed, though not without considerable opposition on the part of some of their number.

Let it be observed here, in defence of what the Venetians afterwards did, that they were connected with the Fourth Crusade in two totally distinct characters. In the first place, they themselves took the cross in great numbers, and were therefore crusaders in the true sense; secondly, they were a company for the transportation of a great number of other crusaders at stated rates, under a guarantee. Moreover, they did not, as some have supposed, include their own forces amongst those for whom the French were to pay.

According to Sismondi, the estimate they made for the transportation of the French was as follows:—

This represented what may be called the business side of the transaction. As crusaders, the Venetians who accompanied the expedition appeared not as business men but as allies, and provided for themselves in every way; and it was as allies that they claimed an equal share of conquest and spoil.

The weakness of the Pope’s subsequent position lay in the fact that while he could, and did, excommunicate the crusaders for going out of their way, he could not possibly have excommunicated them if the Venetians, as

business men, had insisted on the performance of the contract and had refused to start at all.

In giving a brief account of the taking of Constantinople, I shall not offer any criticism of a deed which has been generally condemned, and which it is certainly not easy to excuse, but I shall present it very nearly as it appeared to Romanin, himself a Venetian, and one of the greatest and most just of the Venetian historians.

It was on a Sunday, and in the year 1201, that the decision was reached which sent a Venetian fleet and army to the East under the aged Doge Enrico Dandolo. A vast crowd filled the basilica of Saint Mark, and was swelled by the foreign knights and their attendants, who had descended from the ducal palace after being received by the Doge. Moreover, there were many pilgrims in the throng, wearing upon their coats and cloaks the emblem of the cross. High mass was to be celebrated, and the high altar was already prepared for the solemn function. Before it began, however, a very old man of venerable aspect, but still preserving something of his earlier energy, appeared in the pulpit of the cathedral. He was almost sightless—so blind, indeed, that he had to be led when he walked. But, in spite of age and infirmity, Enrico Dandolo was still one of the most remarkable men living in an age which produced many characters of wonderful individuality and strength. Even his blindness was not the consequence of weakness or old age, but of the fiendish cruelty of the Emperor Manuel Comnenos, who had almost destroyed his sight when he had been ambassador in Constantinople nearly a quarter of a century earlier. He had now reached the age of ninety-four, and had been Doge already eight years.

He stood up in the pulpit and spoke to the people, not long but earnestly, and though he was nearly a hundred years old his voice rang clear and distinct through the vast church, and the words he spoke were heard and long remembered.

‘You are allied,’ he said, ‘with the bravest of living men for the greatest purpose which man can embrace; and I am old and weak and my body has sore need of rest, yet I clearly see that no one can lead you in this enterprise with the authority which is mine as chief of the Republic. I pray you give me leave to take the cross that I may lead you and watch over you, and let my son take my place here to guard the territories of Venice while I go forth to live or die with you and with these pilgrims.’

A great cry went up from all the people, ‘So be it for God’s sake! Take the cross also and come with us.’ And therewith a great wave of enthusiasm moved the whole host—strangers, pilgrims, and Venetians alike; and one who stood in the crowd has recorded that there was something in the bearing of the ancient Doge, in his prayer for permission to take the cross, in the sacrifice he offered of the last strength that was in him, that brought tears to the eyes of them that saw and heard.

Then Enrico Dandolo, laying one hand upon the shoulder of him who went before to lead him, came down and knelt before the high altar; and he asked that the cross should be sewn upon his great cotton bonnet that all might see it, and a great number of Venetians followed his example and took the cross also.

The fleet sailed out of the harbour of Venice on the eighth day of October 1202, a fleet of three hundred sail, the noblest and best equipped that had yet been seen. Three huge vessels led the line—the Aquila, the Paradiso, and the Pellegrina. Above the broad sails the standard of the Republic floated from the masthead, while the flags of other nations that were sending crusaders with the fleet were displayed below it and at the yard-arms. The three hundred vessels were manned by a force of forty thousand men in the bloom of their youth and strength.

The crusade that followed has been too often described for me to describe it. I shall merely endeavour to present a short statement of the main facts and their consequences.

Pope Innocent III. had strictly enjoined upon the crusaders to stop nowhere by the way, but to proceed directly to the Holy Land without turning aside to pursue any purpose or undertaking foreign to the end for which they had bound themselves together by solemn oath. The Pope’s command was peremptory; it is hardly necessary to say that it was also prudent, since the first three crusades had shown clearly to what extent the interests of commerce and the desire for gain could thwart the true purpose of the Holy War. Nevertheless the Venetians considered that the Pope’s words could be interpreted with a breadth convenient to their own ends, and in spite of the resistance of the French knights, who wished to obey the Pope to the letter, the fleet anchored off the coast of Dalmatia in order to retake the strongholds which had fallen under the domination of Hungary. Enrico Dandolo’s argument in favour of this was by no means illogical, whatever his real motives may have been, for he pointed out that it was absolutely necessary to take possession of all harbours on the way to the East from which pirates might sail out to harass the fleet.

No sooner had he taken the city of Zara, however, than the French knights were perplexed and terrified by a message from the Pope, who threatened to excommunicate all who had fought in this incidental war unless they made honourable amends. Ambassadors were at once sent to Rome to explain Dandolo’s specious argument to the Pope and humbly to implore the latter’s pardon. Innocent granted his absolution readily enough, on condition that the crusaders should not turn aside again on their way to the Holy Land.

But meanwhile a still greater temptation presented itself to attract the crusaders out of their straight course. For a long time past the Empire of the East had been distracted by civil wars. At the time when the crusaders set sail from Venice the Emperor Isaac had been dethroned and blinded by his brother Alexis, who had seized the power. But Isaac’s son, the younger Alexis, had succeeded in eluding his uncle’s vigilance, and had escaped from Constantinople. He had visited Rome with the intention of obtaining assistance from Pope Innocent

III., but only to find that his purpose had been forestalled by his uncle, the reigning Emperor. The latter, fearing the Pope’s interference, had already sent an embassy to him with instructions to beguile him with promises of a reconciliation between the Greek and Latin Churches. As this reconciliation, or submission, was the principal inducement which the younger Alexis had to offer in return for help, the Pope considered that it would be wiser to treat with the uncle, who was in possession, rather than with the nephew who was a fugitive. Deceived in his hopes, the younger Alexis proceeded to Germany, to the court of King Philip of Swabia, who had set himself up as Emperor against Otho IV., and had married a sister of the young Prince. It is not clear whether it was Philip himself who suggested to Alexis the possibility of attracting the crusaders to Constantinople, but he appears to have recommended the plan and to have strongly urged the Venetians to agree to it. At all events Alexis

now proceeded to Zara and soon interested the aged Dandolo in his cause. He made great promises if the crusaders would help him to get back the throne; he would bear the whole expenses of the crusade for one year; he would divide amongst the crusaders a sum of two hundred thousand silver marks; he would guarantee for all future time that five hundred knights should be supported by the Greek Empire in the Holy Land to guard it from the attacks of unbelievers; and finally, he promised to bring the Eastern Church back to the spiritual dominion of the popes. These magnificent offers on the one hand, and the moving picture which, on the other, he drew of his father Isaac’s sufferings, produced a profound impression upon his hearers, and especially, perhaps, upon those who had already been in Constantinople and had formed an opinion as to the value of such a prize. In the eyes of the Venetians, too, there was even another object to be accomplished, namely, the destruction of the power of Pisa and of her commerce in the East.

It was in vain that the Pope, who wished to manage matters himself, and who was more than half pledged to the usurper of the throne, raised his voice in threats and protestations; it was in vain that he insisted on the wretched condition of the Christians in Palestine and the extremities to which they were reduced, pointing out that their welfare was to be considered rather than a blind prisoner’s claims to the throne from which he had been ousted, no matter how unjustly. Nothing that the Pope could say had the slightest effect upon men whose conscience agreed to an act of justice in which their ruling passion for gain anticipated an opportunity for almost unbounded plunder. Those who feared to displease the Pope, or were terrified by the menace of excommunication, were told that they were free to leave the ranks if they chose. A few French knights took advantage of this alternative and left the army; amongst these was Simon de Montfort. But the principal French nobles espoused the cause of the younger Alexis, including Boniface of Montferrat, Baldwin of Flanders, Louis of Blois, and Hugh the Count of Saint Paul. These and the great majority, with their followers, threw in their lot with Enrico Dandolo, and looked on with indifference when the Pope’s cardinal legates left the crusade and proceeded to the East by themselves.

Sismondi considers that the subsequent attitude of Venice towards the Holy See throughout her history had its origin at this time; for when, before the expedition sailed, Cardinal San Marcello arrived in Venice, as the Pope’s legate, to take command of the crusading fleet, he was informed that if he shipped as a Christian preacher he should be treated with the highest honours, but that if he came with the slightest idea of giving orders he could not be allowed on board; whereupon, having thoroughly understood the situation, he returned to Rome.

As the fleet proceeded eastwards it was very naturally obliged to put in at a number of Greek harbours, not only to obtain provisions, but because it was absolutely necessary to land the crusaders’ horses from time to time for exercise; and when we consider the conditions of navigation and the dimensions of vessels in those days, we are surprised that such a body of cavalry could have been successfully transported at all from the Venetian islands to the very walls of Constantinople. It was generally considered at that period that Constantinople shared the dominion of the sea with Venice, but it appears that the Emperor’s brother-in-law, who was high admiral of the fleet, had deliberately sold for