CONSTANTINOPLE AND SANCTA SOPHIA 



481 



riage as the wedded husband of their 

 sister, the Princess Anna. 



Vladimir and the Russians ever since, 

 grateful that from Constantinople they 

 had received the boon of their holy faith, 

 clung to the great Mother Church and 

 their Christian coreligionists with filial 

 and fraternal fidelity. Beneath the scep- 

 ter of the Czar the worship is the same 

 today as that which carried captive the 

 envoys in Sancta Sophia. 



On July 1 6, 1054, while the church was 

 thronged by the Orthodox clergy and 

 people. Cardinal Humbert and two other 

 Latin bishops, legates of the Pope, walked 

 steadily up the nave till they reached the 

 altar in the holy place. Then, standing 

 under the colossal mosaic picture of the 

 meek-eyed Christ, whose arms were 

 stretched in blessing, they laid upon the 

 altar the papal excommunication of the 

 Orthodox Eastern Church and the anath- 

 ema against the seven deadly heresies of 

 the Greeks, devoting them and all who 

 shared their doctrines "to the eternal so- 

 ciety of the devil and his angels." Then 

 "they strode out, shaking the dust from 

 their feet and crying, 'Let God see and 

 judge.' " 



Thus the seamless robe was rent ; the 

 hitherto undivided Christian Church was 

 torn in twain and has never since been 

 reunited. The Protestant may ill deter- 

 mine or appreciate the rights and wrongs 

 of the contending parties, of Michael 

 Keroularios the Patriarch, or of Leo IX 

 the Pope ; the points at issue, so vast to 

 them, may appear trivial and of almost 

 microscopic littleness today. But it may 

 be doubted if any act more disastrous to 

 Europe, and above all to Eastern Chris- 

 tianity, was ever performed than this on 

 which the silent walls of Sancta Sophia 

 looked down. Well may Mathas, Bishop 

 of Thera, exclaim : "Unutterably fright- 

 ful have been the consequences of this 

 schism." 



Here, on Easter morning, in April, 

 1204, the warriors of the Eourth Crusade, 

 red-handed from their conquest of the 

 city, caroused and feasted. A courtesan, 

 seated on the patriarchal throne, sang 

 obscene songs in rxasal tones to mock the 

 chanting of the Greeks. Meanwhile the 

 drunken soldiers indulged in nameless 

 orgies with women of the street, and the 



fane resounded with their indecent and 

 Satanic glee. In derision the consecrated 

 bread and wine were mixed with blood 

 and dung. Meanwhile strings of beasts 

 of burden were driven in, covered with 

 priestly robes and loaded with plunder. 

 The shocked and sorrowing Pope Inno- 

 cent III reproached the Crusaders with 

 bitter words and declared that "the Greek 

 Church would see in the Latins only trea- 

 son and works of darkness and loathe 

 them like dogs." The undying memory 

 of those deeds lingers among the Greek 

 inhabitants of Constantinople to this day. 

 So it is not strange that, when the death- 

 throes of the Byzantine Empire had be- 

 gun, many a fanatic Greek looked with 

 equal aversion upon a doctrine or a sol- 

 dier from the West. 



SORROWS OF THE BRIDE; Olf COUNT 

 BAI^DWIN 



On May 26, 1204, Baldwin, Count of 

 Flanders and Hainault, having been 

 tossed in Teutonic fashion upon the 

 shield, was crowned in Sancta Sophia 

 first Latin Emperor of the East. Twelve 

 months afterward the cathedral afforded 

 a splendid sepulcher to the remains of 

 Dandolo, the Doge of Venice, the real 

 brain of the Fourth Crusade. It was he 

 who prostituted its piety to mere material 

 advantage and drowned remembrance of 

 its earlier, loftier aim — recovery of the 

 Holy Tomb and the Holy Land — in the 

 conquest and sack of a Christian capital. 

 Though dying at the age of 97, his physi- 

 cal and mental powers continued una- 

 bated to the last. 



A few months later the cathedral doors 

 swung open, as the portal of a mighty 

 tomb, to receive a gentler and more ap- 

 pealing tenant. Mary, the bride of Bald- 

 win, had remained at home when her 

 just- wedded husband departed on his 

 wars. Romantic and loving, she had be- 

 sought in vain that she might go with 

 him and share his dangers. Afterward 

 she had embarked for Constantinople 

 that she might share his throne. Her 

 ship, driven from its course, was wrecked 

 in Palestine. Only after weary wander- 

 ings and fearful experiences did she reach 

 the capital. 



No husband was there to greet the 

 worn-out wife. Baldwin, made prisoner 



