We have nothing to enable us to judge whether the emperor possessed the power of utterance which at various periods in the world’s history has enabled great soldiers to kindle the enthusiasm of their followers. If ever occasion demanded such power, beyond doubt it was the present. One advantage at least the orator possessed: he had an audience entirely in sympathy with him. Whether he succeeded or not in inspiring them with a confidence which he can hardly have himself felt may be doubted. But that all were determined to follow the emperor and to sacrifice ‘wives and children and their own lives’ in defence of him and their ancient city is attested by both reporters. The leaders, after the fashion still prevalent in Eastern Europe, embraced and asked forgiveness of each other, as men who were ready to die, and, solemnly devoting themselves to the cause of the emperor, repaired to the great church of Hagia Sophia, ‘to strengthen themselves by prayer and the reception of the Holy Mysteries, to confirm their vows to fight, and, if need be, unmindful of all worldly interests, to die for the honour of God and of Christianity.’ [Sidenote: Last Christian service in Hagia Sophia.] The great ceremony of the evening and one that must always stand out among the world’s historic spectacles was the last Christian service held in the church of Holy Wisdom. The great church had not been regularly used since the meeting of December 12, which had led to so much heart-burning and ill-will. Now, at the moment of supreme danger for Constantinople, the fairest monument of Eastern Christendom was again opened. The emperor and such of the leaders as could be spared were present and the building was once more and for the last time crowded with Christian worshippers. It requires no great effort of imagination to picture the scene. The interior of the church was the most beautiful which Christian art had produced, and its beauty was enhanced by its still gorgeous fittings. Patriarch and cardinal, the crowd of ecclesiastics representing both the Eastern and Western Churches; emperor and nobles, the last remnant of the once gorgeous and brave Byzantine aristocracy; priests and soldiers intermingled, Constantinopolitans, Venetians and Genoese, all were present, all realising the peril before them, and feeling that in view of the impending danger the rivalries which had occupied them for years were too small to be worthy of thought. The emperor and his followers partook together of ‘the undefiled and divine mysteries,’ and said farewell to the patriarch. The ceremony was in reality a liturgy of death. The empire was in its agony and it was fitting that the service for its departing spirit should be thus publicly said in its most beautiful church and before its last brave emperor. If the scene so vividly described by Mr. Bryce of the coronation of Charles the Great and the birth of an empire is among the most picturesque in history,