Seldom has any state dragged out fifty-seven years in such constant misery
 and danger as the Latin Empire experienced in the course of its inglorious
 existence. The whole period was one protracted death-agony, and at no date
 within it did there appear any reasonable prospect of recovery. Thirty
 thousand men can take a city, but they cannot subdue a realm 800 miles
 long and 400 broad. Far more than any government which has since held sway
 on the same spot did the Latin Empire of Romania deserve the name of "the
 Sick Man." It is not too much to say that but for the unequalled strength
 of the walls of Constantinople the new power must have ceased to exist
 within ten years of its establishment.
 
 But once fortified within the ramparts of Byzantium the Franks enjoyed the
 inestimable advantage which their Greek predecessors had possessed: they
 were masters of a fortress which--as military science then stood--was
 practically impregnable, if only it was defended with ordinary skill, and
 adequately guarded on the front facing the sea. As long as the Venetians
 kept up their naval supremacy in Eastern waters, the city was safe on that
 side, and even the very limited force which the Latin emperor could put
 into the field sufficed, when joined to the armed burghers of the Italian
 quarters, to defend the tremendous land wall.
 
 From the first year of its existence the Latin Empire was marked out by
 unfailing signs as a power not destined to continue. The intention of its
 founders had been to replace the centralized despotism which they had
 overthrown by a great feudal state, corresponding in territorial extent to
 its predecessor. But within a few months it became evident that the
 conquest of the broad provinces which the Crusaders had distributed among
 themselves by anticipation, was not to be carried out. The new emperor
 himself was the first to discover this. He set out with his chivalry to
 drive from Northern Thrace the Bulgarian hordes, who had flocked down into
 the plains to profit by the plunder of the dismembered realm. But near
 Adrianople he met Joannicios, the Bulgarian king, with a vast army at his
 back. The Franks charged gallantly enough, but they were simply
 overwhelmed by numbers. The larger part of the army was cut to pieces, and
 Baldwin himself was taken prisoner. The Bulgarian kept him in chains for
 some months, and then put him to death, after he had worn the imperial
 crown only one year [1205].
 
 Henry of Flanders, the brother of Baldwin, became his successor. He was an
 honest and able man, but he could do nothing towards conquering the
 provinces of Asia, pushing the Bulgarians back over the Balkans, or
 conciliating the subject Greek population. All his reign he had to fight
 on the defensive against his neighbours to the north and south. By the
 time that he died the empire was practically confined to a narrow slip of
 land along the Propontis, reaching from Gallipoli to Constantinople. Nor
 was the chief of the minor Latin states any better off; Boniface of
 Montferrat had fallen in 1207, slain in battle by the same Bulgarian
 hordes which had cut off the army of his suzerain Baldwin. With his death
 it became evident that the kingdom of Thessalonica was no more able to
 conquer all the old Byzantine provinces in its neighbourhood than was the
 empire of Constantinople. Boniface's son and heir was a mere infant;
 during his minority the lands of his kingdom were lopped away, one after
 another, by the Greek despot of Epirus, the able Theodore Angelus. At last
 the capital itself was retaken by the Greeks in 1222, and the kingdom of
 Thessalonica came to an end.
 
 The Latin states in the southern parts of the Balkan Peninsula fared
 somewhat better. William of Champlitte had contrived to hew out for
 himself a principality in the western parts of the Peloponnesus, and had
 organized there a small state with twelve baronies and 136 knights fees.
 The resistance of the natives in this district was particularly weak, and
 one battle sufficed to give William all the coast-plain of Elis and
 Messenia. Yet he did not succeed in subduing the mountaineers of the
 peninsula of Maina, or the coast towns of Argolis and Laconia, so that the
 Greeks still had some foothold in the peninsula.
 
 Another small Latin state was set up by Otho de la Roche in Central
 Greece, where as "Duke of Athens" he ruled Attica and Boeotia. He treated
 his Greek subjects with more consideration than any of his fellow
 Crusaders, and was rewarded by obtaining a degree of respect and deference
 which was not found in any other Latin state. Though the smallest, the
 duchy of Athens was undoubtedly the most prosperous of the new creations
 of the conquest of 1204.
 
 Meanwhile it is time to speak of the fortunes of those parts of the
 Eastern Empire which the Franks did not succeed in seizing when
 Constantinople fell. The provinces had hitherto been accustomed to accept
 without a murmur the ruler whom the capital obeyed. But in 1204 it was
 found that the centralization of the Byzantine Empire, great as it was,
 had not so thoroughly crushed the individuality of the provinces as to
 make them submit without resistance to the Latin yoke. Wherever the
 provincials found a leader, whether a member of one of the ex-imperial
 houses, or an energetic governor, or a landholder of local influence, they
 stood up to defend themselves. The Byzantine Empire, like some creature of
 low organism, showed every sign of life in its limbs, though its head had
 been shorn off. Wherever a centre of resistance could be found the people
 refused to submit to the piratical Frank, and to his yet more hated
 companions the priests of the Roman Church.
 
 Of the nine or ten leaders who put themselves at the head of provincial
 risings three were destined to carve out kingdoms for themselves. Of these
 the most important was Theodore Lascaris, the last officer who had
 attempted to strike a blow against the Franks when Constantinople
 fell. He might claim some shadow of hereditary right to the imperial
 crown as he had married the daughter of the imbecile Alexius III., but his
 true title was his well-approved courage and energy. The wrecks of the old
 Byzantine army rallied around him, the cities of Bithynia opened their
 gates, and when the Latins crossed into Asia to divide up the land into
 baronies and knights fees, they found Theodore waiting to receive them
 with the sword. His defence of the strong town of Prusa, which
 successfully repelled Henry of Flanders, put a limit to the extension of
 the Frank Empire; beyond a few castles on the Bithynian coast they made no
 conquests. Having thus checked the invaders, Theodore had himself solemnly
 crowned at Nicaea, and assumed imperial state [1206].
 
                               
 
 Finial From A Byzantine MS. (_From "L'Art Byzantin." Par C. Bayet. Paris,
                              Quantin, 1883._)
 
 
 Having beaten off the Latins, Theodore had to cope with another who
 aspired like himself to pose as the rightful heir to the imperial throne.
 Alexius Comnenus, a grandson of the wicked emperor Andronicus I., had
 betaken himself to the Eastern frontiers of the empire when Constantinople
 fell, and obtained possession of Trebizond and the long slip of coast-land
 at the south-east corner of the Black Sea, from the mouth of the Phasis to
 Sinope. He aspired to conquer the whole of Byzantine Asia, and sent his
 brother David Comnenus to attack Bithynia. But Theodore defended his newly
 won realm with success; Comnenus gained no territory from him, and was
 constrained to content himself with the narrow bounds of his Pontic realm,
 where his descendants reigned in obscurity for three hundred years as
 emperors of Trebizond. A greater danger beset the empire of Nicaea when
 the warlike sultan of the Seljouks came down from his plateau to ravage
 its borders. But the valour of Theodore Lascaris triumphed over this enemy
 also. In the battle of Antioch-on-Maeander he slew Sultan Kaikhosru with
 his own hand in single combat, and the Turks were beaten back with such
 slaughter that they left the empire alone for a generation.
 
 Meanwhile a third Greek state had sprung into existence in the far West.
 Michael Angelus, a cousin of Alexius III. and Isaac II., put in a claim to
 their heritage, though he was disqualified by his illegitimate birth. He
 was recognized as ruler by the cities of Epirus, and proclaimed himself
 "despot" of that land. Raising an army among the warlike tribes of
 Albania, he maintained his position with success, and discomfited the
 Franks of Athens and Thessalonica when they took arms against him. He died
 early, but left a compact heritage to his brother Theodore, who succeeded
 him on the throne, and within a few years conquered the whole of the Frank
 kingdom of Thessalonica.
 
 It was soon evident that there would be a trial of strength between the
 two Greek emperors who claimed to succeed to the rights of the
 dispossessed Angeli. The Latin Empire was obviously destined to fall
 before one of them. The only doubt was, whether the Epirot or the Nicene
 was to be its conqueror. This question was not settled till 1241, when the
 two powers met in decisive conflict.
 
 By this time Theodore Lascaris had been succeeded in Asia by his
 son-in-law John Ducas, and Theodore of Thessalonica by his son John
 Angelus. At Constantinople the succession of Latin emperors had been much
 more rapid. Henry of Flanders had died in 1216; he was followed by Peter
 of Courtenay, who was slain by the Epirots in less than a year. To him
 succeeded Robert his son, and when Robert died in 1228 his brother Baldwin
 II., reigned in his stead. The young Courtenays were both thoroughly
 incapable, and saw their empire melt away from them till nothing was left
 beyond the walls of Constantinople itself.
 
 John III. of Nicaea was an excellent sovereign, a very worthy heir to his
 gallant father-in-law. Not only was he a good soldier and an able
 administrator, but by constant supervision and strict frugality he had got
 the financial condition of his empire into a more hopeful condition--a
 state of things which had never been seen in Romania since the time of
 John Comnenus, a hundred years before. In 1230 the troops of Nicaea
 crossed into Europe, and drove the Franks out of Southern Thrace, while in
 1235 John Ducas laid siege to Constantinople itself. But the time of its
 fall was not yet arrived, and when a Venetian fleet approached to succour
 it the Emperor was constrained to raise the siege.
 
                               
 
                    Fountain In The Court Of St. Sophia.
 
 
 Recognizing that Constantinople was not yet ripe for its fall, John Ducas
 resolved to measure himself with his rivals the Angeli of Thessalonica. He
 beat their forces out of the field, and laid siege to their capital in
 1341. Then John Angelus engaged to resign the title of emperor, call
 himself no more than "despot of Epirus," and to acknowledge himself as the
 vassal of the ruler of Nicaea. This satisfied Ducas for a time, but when
 Angelus died, four years later, he seized Thessalonica and united it to
 the imperial crown. The heir of the Angeli escaped to Albania and
 succeeded in retaining a small fraction only of his ancestral dominions
 [1246].
 
 John Ducas died in 1254, leaving the throne of Nicaea to his son Theodore
 II., who bid fair to continue the prosperous career of his father and
 grandfather. He drove the Bulgarians out of Macedonia, and penned the
 Albanians into their hills. But he became subject to epileptic fits, and
 died after a reign of only four years, before he had reached the age of
 thirty-eight [1258].
 
 This was a dreadful misfortune for the empire, for John Ducas, the son and
 heir of Theodore, was a child of eight years, and minorities were always
 disastrous to the state. We have seen in the history of previous centuries
 how frequently the infancy of a prince led to a violent contest for the
 place of regent, or even to a usurpation of the throne. The case of John
 IV. was no exception to the rule; the ministers of his father fought and
 intrigued to gain possession of the helm of affairs, till at last an able
 and unprincipled general, named Michael Paleologus, thrusting himself to
 the front, was named tutor to the Emperor, and given the title of
 "Despot."
 
 Michael was as ambitious as he was unscrupulous. The place of regent was
 far from satisfying his ambition, and he determined to seize the throne,
 though he had steeped himself to the lips in oaths of loyalty to his young
 master. He played much the same game that Richard III. was destined to
 repeat in England two centuries later. He cleared away from the capital
 the relatives and adherents of the little prince, placed creatures of his
 own in their places, and conciliated the clergy by large gifts and
 hypocritical piety. Presently the partisans of Michael began to declaim
 against the dangers of a minority, and the necessity for a strong hand at
 the helm. After much persuasion and mock reluctance the regent was induced
 to allow himself to be crowned. From that moment the boy John Ducas was
 thrust aside and ignored: ere he had reached the age of ten his wicked
 guardian put out his eyes and plunged him into a dungeon, where he spent
 thirty years in darkness and misery.
 
 The usurpation of Michael tempted all the enemies of the Greek Empire to
 take arms. The Epirot despot allied himself with the Frankish lords of
 Greece, and their united armies, aided by auxiliaries from Italy, invaded
 Macedonia; moreover the Latin emperor of Constantinople stirred up the
 Venetians to ravage his neighbours' borders. But in 1260 the troops of
 Michael won, over the allied armies of the Franks and Epirots, the last
 great victory that a Byzantine army was ever destined to achieve. The
 field of Pelagonia decided the lot of the house of Paleologus, for
 Michael's enemies were so crushed that they could never afterwards make
 head against him.
 
 Freed from all danger from the West, Michael was now able to turn against
 Constantinople, and complete the reconstruction of the empire. The city
 was ripe for its fall, and Baldwin of Courtenay had long been awaiting his
 doom.
 
 The long reign of the last Latin sovereign of Constantinople is
 sufficiently characterized by the fact that Baldwin spent nearly half the
 years of his rule outside the bounds of Romania, as he wandered from court
 to court in the West, striving to stir up some champion who would deliver
 him from the inevitable destruction impending over his realm. He gained
 little by his tours, his greatest success being that, in 1244, he got from
 St. Louis a considerable sum of ready money in acknowledgment of the
 liberality with which he had presented the holy king with a choice
 selection of relics, including the rod of Moses, the jawbone of John the
 Baptist, and our Lord's crown of thorns.
 
 In 1261 Baldwin was in worse straits than ever. He was stripping off the
 lead of his own palace roof, to sell it for a few zecchins to the
 Venetians, and burning the beams of his outhouses in default of money to
 buy fuel. His son and heir was in pawn to the Venetian banking firm of the
 Capelli, who had taken him as the only tangible security that could be
 found for a modest loan which they had advanced to the imperial exchequer.
 With the government in such a desperate condition there was no longer any
 power of resistance left in Constantinople. When the Venetian fleet, the
 sole remaining defence of the empire, was away at sea, the city fell
 before a sudden and unpremeditated attack, made by Alexius Strategopulus,
 commander in Thrace under the emperor Michael.
 
 Alexius, with eight hundred regular troops and a few scores of half-armed
 volunteers, was admitted by treachery within the walls. Before this
 formidable array the heirs of the Crusaders fled in base dismay, and the
 Empire of Romania came to an inglorious and a well-deserved end.
 
 Its monarch resumed his habitual mendicant tours in Western Europe, and
 never ceased to besiege the ears of popes and kings with demands for aid
 to recover his lost realm. At last Baldwin passed away: his sole memorial
 is the fact that he made a distressed and itinerant emperor in search of a
 champion, one of the stock figures in the Romances of his day. No one in
 Western Europe was ignorant of his tale, and he survives as the prototype
 of the dispossessed sovereigns of fifty legends of chivalry.