"In the close of evening the barons checked their troops and fortified their stations; they were awed by the extent and populousness of the capital, which might yet require the labor of a month, if the churches and palaces were conscious of their internal strength. But in the morning a suppliant procession, with crosses and images, announced the submission of the Greeks, and deprecated the wrath of the conquerors: the usurper escaped through the golden gate; the palaces of Blachernæ and Boucoleon were occupied by the Count of Flanders and the Marquis of Montferrat; and the Empire, which still bore the name of Constantine and the title of Roman, was subverted by the arms of the Latin pilgrims."
The anxieties and cares of the conquerors were by no means ended by victory. They had overcome the strongest fortress in existence, and were in possession of a city whose vast size and inconceivable wealth (as yet but half known to them) impressed them with their responsibilities, and foreshadowed difficulties which must be met with the greatest prudence. The Greeks were a degenerate and effeminate people, demoralized by bad government and pleasure-seeking. In the language of an old historian, they "cheated time and offended Nature, by rearing flowers in winter, and culling in spring the fruits of autumn." Dandolo and the barons perceived that this people must be protected; and how to do this before the whirlwind of profligacy and avarice which was sure to follow, was a grave question.
"The Marquis of Monteferrato was the model of virtue; the Count of Flanders, the mirror of chastity;" and they, as well as Dandolo, endeavored to avert the terrors of pillage and rapine. A proclamation was issued in their name, commanding that the helpless and innocent should be spared; and the Count of St. Pol hanged one of his knights, who offered abuse to a woman, with his shield and coat-of-arms about his neck, as a warning that the leaders must be obeyed. But avarice was not checked. The imperial treasury and the arsenal were guarded, and the rest of the city was given up to plunder.
Under the penalties of perjury, excommunication, and death, the whole body of Crusaders and Venetians were bound to deposit all their plunder, of whatever sort, in three churches selected for the purpose. In spite of all these precautions and the severe punishment of the disobedient, Gibbon says that the plunder which was secreted exceeded in value that which was exposed and divided according to the agreement previously made. This may easily have been true of the rare precious gems and small articles of inestimable value which existed in Constantinople, but that which was divided far exceeded any anticipations which had been indulged by the leaders.
Sismondi estimates that the riches of Constantinople before the siege reached twenty-four million pounds sterling. The Count of Flanders wrote to the Pope that the wealth of Constantinople exceeded that of all Europe put together; and Villehardouin declared that never in the history of the world had so great riches been collected in a single city. The property divided was valued at one million eight hundred thousand pounds; and if Gibbon is correct, the whole booty must have reached four million pounds sterling. In the division half was given to the Crusaders, and half to the Venetians; and the latter received fifty thousand silver marks additional, which was due them from the barons.
The whole story of the terrible destruction of works of art—of bronzes sent to the melting-pot, of marbles and other beautiful statues and ornaments that were ruthlessly broken—is heart-rending, but is not strictly a part of the story of Venice, since the ignominy and sacrilege of these deeds belong to other nations as well. Nothing was sacred to the plunderers. Pears tells us—
"Every insult was offered to the religion of the conquered citizens. Churches and monasteries were the richest storehouses, and were therefore the first buildings to be rifled. Monks and priests were selected for insult. The priest's robes were placed by the Crusaders on their horses. The icons were ruthlessly torn down from the screens or were broken. The sacred buildings were ransacked for relics or their beautiful caskets. The chalices were stripped of their precious stones and converted into drinking-cups. The sacred plate was heaped with ordinary plunder. The altar-cloths and the screens of cloth-of-gold, richly embroidered and bejewelled, were torn down, and either divided among the troops or destroyed for the sake of the gold and silver which were woven into them. The altars of Hagia Sophia, which had been the admiration of all men, were broken for the sake of the material of which they were made. Horses and mules were taken into the church in order to carry off the loads of sacred vessels, and the gold and silver plates of the throne, the pulpits, and the doors, and the beautiful ornaments of the church. The soldiers made the chief church of Christendom the scene of their profanity. A prostitute was seated in the patriarchal chair, who danced, and sang a ribald song for the amusement of the soldiers.... The plunder of the same church in 1453 by Mahomet the Second compares favorably with that made by the Crusaders of 1204."
Hazlitt adds to his account of the pillage:—
"Gems of the choicest water, vases of inestimable value, relics of odorous sanctity, were pilfered from the altars, the reliquaries, or from private dwellings, by rapacious soldiers, who sold them at a paltry price; and although these matchless rarities were recovered, partly by process of exchange and the ignorance of art, no inconsiderable portion was irretrievably lost. Some, however, found a worthy destination. The proud monuments of human genius, sculptures, paintings, frescos, mosaics, and minerals, which the industry and taste of ten generations of men had gradually amassed in that city of cities, were scattered by this great revolution among the palaces and churches, the castles and abbeys, of Western Europe. Many of the Venetian public buildings were decorated with the trophies which fell to the lot of the Republic herself; and Venice accounted no treasures more precious than the four antique bronzes, which were afterward known as the 'Horses of St. Mark.'"